Hunted
by JillianCasey
Summary: A continuation of Dangerous Game. Highly recommended that you read that first. Beckett tries to figure out where she wants things to go with Castle. Meanwhile, a serial killer fixates on Beckett.
1. Knight in Shining Armor

_**A/N: And so it begins. This chapter is quite long. Most of them will be, I think. Hunted is going to be one hell of a ride for Beckett and Castle. Buckle up, everyone :) Oh…and I own nothing related to Castle. It all belongs to ABC.**_

"You had hot shower sex this morning, didn't you?"

The coffee in Kate's mouth rocketed out, spattering all over the table and the Caesar salad in front of her. Some of it even came out of her nose. God, it burned. Kate stared up at Lanie Parish, medical examiner and best friend extraordinaire, who was sitting across the table from her in their favorite dumpy diner. If it was possible, Lanie's eyes would've burned a hole through Kate.

"What?"

"Maybe not hot shower sex," Lanie said next, her expression thoughtful. "Maybe just run of the mill, pre-work, bed sex."

Kate shook her head. "Lanie…"

"Girl, don't you dare deny it. You waltz into the crime scene this morning with _that_ look on your face, and you expect me to believe you didn't get lucky this morning? Nu uh. Not buying it." Lanie pointed her fork threateningly at the detective sitting across from her. "Spill it."

Kate looked down at her salad. "I wouldn't know what to spill."

"Why don't you start with the name of the mystery man?"

_Rick Castle. _

Oh God. It sounded shocking even in her head. She was sleeping with Rick Castle. Having mind-blowing, incredibly hot shower sex with Rick Castle. Because yes, she'd had shower sex that morning. Hot shower sex. _Really_ hot shower sex.

It had been three weeks since her and Rick's truth or dare game had gotten out of control and culminated in a night that left Kate's muscles sore for days. They still hadn't been on a date. Not what Rick called a "real date" anyway. They saw each other all the time. Aside from work, they spent the majority of their nights and weekends together. Alexis was usually somewhere in the mix as well, since she was so over the moon that Kate Beckett was a more personal and less professional part of her father's life. Most of their time, however, was spent either in Rick's loft or at Kate's apartment. Public places were off limits until they figured out what exactly they were, because the moment they stepped out into public together the tabloids would have them married and pregnant. It bordered on frustrating for Kate, but she couldn't really complain. The only reason they weren't official was her.

It wasn't like they were prisoners in their own homes, though. They had too much fun to think of themselves as trapped. They had managed an incognito trip to the Museum of Natural History, because Rick was a closet history buff and Kate liked the Egypt exhibit. They'd had two movie marathons with Alexis as well, marathons that mostly consisted of Kate trying to focus on the movie while Rick let his hands roam free under the blanket. They had dinner together almost every night; Rick was a sinfully good cook. And, of course, there'd been quite a bit of sex. Great sex. But not a real date yet. No flowers. No PDA. No mention of the terms boyfriend, girlfriend, dating, or relationship.

It was Kate's choice. She knew that one word from her and Rick would be ready to have _the talk_. He'd wanted to have it after their first night, but Kate had sidestepped him. She'd been sidestepping him ever since. He didn't ask a lot; he seemed to know that pressuring her was a bad idea, so he settled for a casual reference every now and then. Nevertheless, she could read it in his expression. She didn't want to sound arrogant, but she knew it. Just knew it. Rick wanted her to be his girlfriend. He wouldn't have let her anywhere near Alexis if he didn't. The question was did she _want _to be his girlfriend?

Possibly.

Probably.

Yes.

The only problem was she was fucking terrified.

"Hello? Earth to Kate."

Kate looked up at Lanie. "Huh?"

Lanie smirked at her from across the table. "The sex is that good, huh?"

Kate rooted her fork through her salad. "Not everything is about sex, you know. Just because you're a sex fiend-"

"_I'm_ a sex fiend? Girl, you must be out your damn mind!" Lanie stabbed her fork in Kate's direction again. "You better tell me that man's name before I fork it out of you."

Kate leaned back in her seat and sighed. "I can't, Lanie."

"And why not?"

"Because-"

"Oh, God. It's not FBI man, is it? Kate, you know you deserve better than that-"

"No," Kate interrupted. She waved the idea off with a flick of her hand. "I don't even know if Will is still in New York. It's not him."

"Well then who is it? What's the big secret?"

Kate broke eye contact and looked out the window next to their booth. She didn't like keeping things from Lanie. Lanie certainly never kept things from her. But things with Rick were so…good. Really good. She didn't want to mess them up. She didn't want any pressure to put a label on anything, or to let him in any faster than she already was. She just wanted things to stay exactly as they were. Things at work were no different than they had been before the game. Kate had warned Rick explicitly that nothing was to change, and he'd held up his end of the bargain beautifully, annoying habits and inappropriate innuendos included. Outside of work, things were simple. Laughter, time with each other and time together with Alexis, and sex. It didn't get much simpler than that.

"Oh. My. _God_." Kate looked back at Lanie as the M.E.'s fork clattered onto the table. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates. "Its writer boy, isn't it?"

The hot flush that overpowered Kate's face suddenly was answer enough, and she knew it. She leaned over the table. "You can't tell anyone."

"Please. I wouldn't do that. But it's him?"

Kate sighed. "Yes. It's him."

Lanie squealed, actually squealed, and Kate rolled her eyes. "It's about damn time! When was the first time? Last night?" Another blush crept over Kate's cheeks. She shook her head. "This weekend?" Today was Monday. Kate shook her head again. Lanie's mouth fell open a bit. "Last weekend?" she tried again. Kate bit her lip and made a guilty face. "Kate!" Lanie cried. "How long have you been sleeping with him?"

"Not long. Only like three weeks-"

"Three weeks?" Lanie repeated incredulously. "You've been sleeping with Rick Castle-"

"Shhh!"

"…for _three weeks_? And you didn't tell me?"

"Yes." A sudden look of hurt crossed Lanie's face and Kate felt a stab of guilt. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted to. But at first, I wasn't sure it would last. I mean, he's Castle, right?"

"But he hasn't hit the road yet?"

"No."

"And neither have you."

Kate sighed. "No."

"So you two are like…dating."

"No," Kate said forcefully. "We're not dating. We're…having fun."

Lanie knit her eyebrows. "Did he say that?"

"No. I did."

Lanie crossed her arms over her chest and eyed the detective across from her interestedly. "Let me get this straight. You've been sleeping with him for three weeks but you two aren't in a relationship because _you_ don't want to be?"

"It's not that I don't want to be. I'm just…"

"Scared?" Lanie supplied.

Kate shook her head. "We work together, Lanie."

"Yeah. So?"

"So if we put a label on this, that means the label could come off someday. Which would make things really awkward at work."

Lanie shook her head. "No. That's bullshit. When he got into your mother's case you had no problem kicking him off your team and out of the precinct. You'd do it again if you had to. This is something else."

Kate scoffed. "Something like what?"

"Something like you like him. A lot. You're not afraid of how a potential break up could affect work. You're afraid of how a potential break up could affect _you_."

The shrill ring of Kate's phone stopped Lanie from finishing her thought. Kate reached for it. "Beckett. Really? Okay. Be right there."

She hung up the phone and looked at Lanie. "Duty calls." She dropped a twenty on the table.

"We're finishing this later," Lanie warned.

Kate sent her best friend a smile as she got out of the booth and headed for the door. "Whatever you want, Dr. Parish."

"I know where you live!" Lanie called after her. She was answered by the door to the diner slamming shut. Lanie picked up her fork and rooted around her salad. "Three weeks," she muttered to herself. "Damn sex fiends."

X-X-X-X-X

Mark watched from across the street as Detective Kate Beckett exited the diner with a smile on her face. She really was a beautiful woman. His eyes swept over her wolfishly, trailing up her long jean clad legs, over the toned midsection hidden by her coat, and rested on her face. Her hair blew in the wind and she brushed it out of her eyes absently, then returned her hands to her coat pockets. She weaved her way in between the people on the sidewalk purposefully, and he had to walk a bit to keep up and not lose sight of her.

His eyes still rested on her face, her head. The mind inside of her head captivated him. So many solved cases, so many accomplishments. She was brilliant. She could've been anything; her savior complex had pushed her into the police academy. Such a shame. She could've been great. There was so much going on inside that pretty head of hers. He wanted to be inside her head. Wanted to see how it all worked, see how she viewed the world. He had a pretty good idea. But he wanted to know it all.

Something about her made his heart thump faster. Maybe it was the memories. Maybe it was his plans for the future. Mark curled his fingers into a fist, wishing he could curl his fingers around her instead. Soon. Soon the world would know her as a different kind of muse than it currently did, and soon she would be on her knees begging him to save her again.

In the meantime, there was another Kate waiting for him.

X-X-X-X-X

"The day she died, Tracy Stanton made six phone calls. Three to her husband, one to her mother, and two to an unidentified number that's untraceable." Esposito handed Beckett the copy of the phone records. "We're going to look at some other angles; see if we can figure out who owns the phone."

Kate scanned the numbers. "Good. Show it to her husband and her mother, too. See if they recognize it."

Esposito nodded and then Ryan stepped up. "We got a hit on the license plate of the green Chevy. Belongs to a guy named Marco Salvatore. He's got a record. Possession with intent to sell, some assault charges. Want us to bring him in?"

"Yes. Do that now. We can do the number recognition later."

The boys nodded and disappeared, off to bring her a new suspect to interrogate. Kate sat down at her desk, still eyeing the phone records.

"I had a daydream that you had your wicked way with me in the break room."

The voice in her ear was low, throaty. Kate didn't turn around, but found herself smiling as she looked down at the phone records. The smell of Rick's cologne filled her nose. "Oh yeah? In your dream did I tell you there are cameras in there?"

"Yes. But you didn't care because you just had to have me right then and there."

Kate smirked and finally turned her head to look at Rick, who was leaning over her shoulder. His face was close, close enough to make her heart thump a little bit faster. "Because you're so irresistible, right?"

He grinned. "Well that's what you were thinking this morning. You know, in the shower right before you-"

"_Don't_ finish that sentence," she warned, holding up a finger. He stopped, held her eyes meaningfully for a second, and then plopped into the chair next to her desk. Kate turned back to her phone records.

"Where are the boys going?"

"To bring me a suspect to interrogate."

"Yesss. I love interrogations."

Kate didn't answer. After a moment Rick casually lifted his feet and rested them on the corner of her desk. Kate promptly shoved them off, but didn't look up from her papers. Another few seconds passed in silence as Kate put the phone records down and reached for some other papers. She could feel him watching her just as much as she could feel her heart thumping a step faster than normal.

"Castle." She still didn't look at him.

"Yes, Detective?"

"Stop staring."

"But-"

"It's creepy. Stop it."

She knew he was pouting. A faint smile tugged at her lips. She tried to resist, but she couldn't. At last, she looked up at him. She leaned toward him, setting a piece of paper on her desk where he could see it. She pointed at it. "Look at this." As soon as he leaned forward and they were both looking at the paper, Kate lowered her voice. "Is Alexis still going to the Student Council lock-in?"

"Yes."

"And your mother?"

"With Chet. You want to have dinner? My place?"

"Are you cooking?"

"Would you find it sexy if I did?"

She stifled a grin and shuffled the papers so they were looking at but not really seeing a new one. "Make me dinner, and I'll make it worth your while."

"Deal."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate was pacing around the interrogation room, weaving a story that Castle would've been proud of. Rick's eyes were on her every step of the way, enthralled, but she was more concerned with the suspect, Marco Salvatore, at the moment.

"So you killed her," she finished. "You stalked her, and you killed her."

Salvatore shook his head. "You got it all wrong, lady. You're pretty and all, but you don't know shit."

Kate was tired of the come-ons. Salvatore had been after her since she'd walked in, thinking it would throw her off her game. All it did was piss her off. She was a bit worried about Rick though; judging from the way his jaw tightened every time Salvatore said something inappropriate, he was trying his very hardest to keep his mouth shut.

Kate stopped next to the table and crossed her arms over her chest, looking down her nose at Salvatore. "Marco. Can I call you Marco?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Listen, I've got half a dozen witnesses who saw your car outside of Tracy Stanton's apartment every day the week before her murder. They even saw you outside her building the day she was killed."

"I told you, I wanted to talk to her."

"About what?"

"What do you care?"

Kate gave him a haughty smile. "You know, it doesn't really matter if you tell me. I've got a witness in holding. He knows exactly what you wanted to talk to Tracy about. In fact, he knows all kinds of things about you. He's very talkative. Maybe I'll just talk to him."

"You're lying."

She lifted a shoulder carelessly. "Maybe. Guess you'll have to wait and see."

She was headed toward the exit of the interrogation room when Salvatore called after her. "Wait." Kate turned around expectantly. "It was about money. She owed me money."

"For?"

"Drugs."

"You were her dealer?"

"No. I just knew him."

Kate started toward Salvatore again. She planted her palms on the stainless steel table, leaned down inches away from Salvatore's face, and looked him straight in the eye. "Don't lie, Marco. It pisses me off."

"You know I could do better things to you than piss you off. Things you'd really like."

She caught Rick shifting in his chair out of the corner of her eye. She didn't blink. "Why don't you start with the name of Tracy's dealer?"

"How about I get you out of those clothes first?" Salvatore raked his eyes over her figure, and Kate felt a rush of vomit pushing against her throat. God, he was disgusting. Salvatore met her eyes and grinned. "You know with an ass like that-"

She saw his hand darting toward her, ready to grab her ass, but she was too quick for him. Her hand flitted out, caught his wrist, and used it to pull his arm behind his back the same way she would if she were cuffing him. She shoved and his face went careening forward, smacking against the stainless steel table. She tugged his wrist and heard a satisfying crack, followed by a yelp of pain. She leaned down and put her mouth by his ear.

"Next time you want to grab someone's ass, I'd recommend choosing a woman who isn't a cop." Salvatore was blissfully silent. Kate straightened and let go of his wrist. "Enjoy your night in a cell, Marco. We'll talk tomorrow."

She headed toward the exit, walking sideways so that she could keep an eye on Salvatore. It was a good thing, too; he rose from his chair as soon as she let him go and headed toward her. She knew that Esposito and Ryan were probably already bolting for the room, but they wouldn't make it before Salvatore got to her. Kate set her feet, ready for the attack, but as Salvatore pulled his fist back and sent it lurching forward, Rick was suddenly in between Kate and Salvatore's fist.

The fist connected with a sickening crack and Rick staggered backward, his hands flying up to clutch his face. Kate was distracted momentarily, but she couldn't miss how Salvatore's eyes settled on her instantly. He started for her, and she ducked another punch before sweeping his legs out from under him with her foot. He was struggling to his feet again when the door to the interrogation room burst open and Esposito's booming bass voice roared.

"Freeze! Hands in the air!"

Salvatore stopped. Ryan hurried forward, slamming Salvatore onto the table and cuffing him with way more force than necessary. Once Salvatore was cuffed, Kate turned to Rick.

He was hunched over, still holding his face. Kate put a hand on his back and leaned down toward his face. "Castle? You okay?"

He straightened and she did too. He had a hand over his left eye, but his right eye squinted at her. "Ow."

She tilted her head sympathetically. "I know. What were you thinking, jumping in front of him like that?"

"He was coming at you-"

"I'm a cop, Castle." She watched as Ryan shoved Salvatore toward the door. "I can handle myself."

"Yeah, but-"

Kate sent him a look. She knew exactly where he was going, and Esposito was still in the room. Definitely not the time. Rick fell silent and looked at the floor. Kate felt bad; he was only trying to protect her. It was completely illogical, seeing as she was an armed cop and he was just a novelist, but the intention was sweet. And God he was cute when he was all hurt and dejected. She put a hand on his arm. "Come on. Let's get you an ice pack."

X-X-X-X-X

"So I was really chivalrous, right?"

Kate rolled her eyes as she got the ice pack out of the freezer in the lounge. She didn't know why they kept ice packs in there, but they did. Lucky for Castle.

"Yes, Castle. Very chivalrous."

"And brave?"

She smirked at him as she walked toward him. He was leaning against the counter in front of the espresso machine, still holding his face. At least he wasn't wincing anymore; now a goofy, lopsided grin dominated his face.

"Yes. Very brave."

"And manly?"

Kate batted Rick's hand out of the way, lifted the ice pack, and pressed it against his face. He squealed. Kate grinned and lifted her eyebrows. "What were you saying about manly?"

"It's cold," he pouted, giving her his best puppy dog face.

"Well, you should've thought about the consequences of your actions _before_ you dove in front of the stalker guy trying to punch me."

"Hey, I was trying to protect you. Some creep comes at my…" he trailed off. Kate felt a flush rise to her cheeks and she moved her gaze from Rick's eyes to the ice pack. Rick shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "He was all over you," he murmured after a minute.

Kate met his eyes again. "Lots of suspects are all over me, Castle. It's part of the job."

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to. It's not your job, it's mine."

She looked back at the ice pack again. She didn't know why she sounded so irritated. Rick's hand was suddenly on the small of her back, pulling her flush against his body. "Kate. Can you look at me please?"

She looked at him and held his eyes as she wriggled free of his hand on her back. "Work," she muttered.

He sighed and lowered his hand. "It's not like I don't know you can take care of yourself, okay? You could kick that guy's ass to Mars if you wanted to."

Kate nodded. "Okay."

"Beeeecks," he called. His voice was low and affectionate, the kind of voice that he used when he was trying to coax her into doing something that she thought was ridiculous. "Don't be mad at me, okay? It was just a reaction." He trailed his hand over her cheek. "Besides, your face is much too pretty for a black eye."

She finally smiled. She moved the ice pack and lifted her fingers to press against the shining bruise forming around his eye. "You're going to look like a raccoon," she observed.

"Are you okay with sleeping with a rodent?"

Kate shoved him, but she was smiling still. She put the ice pack back on his face. The door to the lounge suddenly opened, and Kate scooted a more socially respectable distance away from Rick while still holding the ice pack to his face. Captain Montgomery appeared, looking frazzled.

"Beckett. You…" he trailed off and stared at the detective and the writer, puzzled. "What happened?"

"I got punched," Rick answered.

"By you?" Montgomery asked, looking at Kate.

Kate laughed. "No. Although I can't say I haven't thought about it…" Castle pouted and Kate smirked. "It was a suspect," she clarified.

Montgomery stared at Kate like she'd grown a second head. "And _you're_ icing it for him?"

_Oh shit._ Kate shifted into panic mode, but as always Rick was smooth and ready with an excuse. "Guilty conscience. It was sort of her fault."

Montgomery nodded, but Kate couldn't ignore the way his eyes were darting between her and Rick. She cleared her throat. "Did you need something, Captain?"

"I just got a call from the 15th precinct…they've got a body. 125th and Chester. Pretty gruesome."

"Okay…is it related to Tracy Stanton's case?"

"No, but the detective in charge is asking for you. They want you over there now."

"Why?"

Montgomery slid his hands into his pockets. "Apparently the killer left a note addressed to you. Specifically requesting you, in fact. Get your ass over there. And take the boys and your wounded shadow with you."


	2. Another Me

"I need to speak with Detective Carmichael, please," Kate said to the uniform standing guard at the door. They were in a middle class apartment building, standing outside of apartment 313, where the uniform downstairs had directed them to go.

The officer Kate had spoken to looked her up and down casually. "You Detective Beckett?"

"Yes."

"Carmichael is expecting you. He's in there."

Kate nodded her thanks, and was halfway into the apartment when she heard the uniform tell her team they couldn't follow. She turned around. "They come with me, Officer."

"Detective Carmichael told me that a limited number should go through the scene-"

"And I'm telling you my team comes with me. Let them through."

Her voice had an authoritative edge, the kind of edge that made Castle and the boys stand a little straighter. The uniform went ramrod straight and nodded dumbly, motioning for her team to follow. Kate turned her back on him and started through the apartment without saying thank you.

"Bam said the lady!" Castle murmured in her ear as they walked through the foyer of the apartment. "The boys and I are touched by your loyalty, Detective."

Esposito and Ryan snickered and Kate rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Castle."

They crossed the threshold of the foyer and were met by the opening of the apartment into a living room. Kate stopped dead in her tracks, only to have Castle run headlong into her back, followed by Ryan and Esposito.

"Jeez, Beckett, you could've…" Castle trailed off. Kate didn't have to wonder why.

The living room was covered in blood. It was spattered on the walls, pooling on the floor, dripping from the coffee table. The white couch in the center of the room was no longer white, stained crimson from the blood of the woman sitting dead on the center cushion.

"God," Kate whispered, her eyes coming to rest on the dead woman. She was sitting on the couch, her head tilted back over the top edge. Her throat was slit, revealing a rather gruesome vision of the inside of her neck. Kate looked closer and realized the woman's wrists, which were facing upward by her sides, were also slit. The stench of a dead body and blood hit Kate's nostrils next, and it was all she could do not to throw up.

"Whoa," Castle murmured from his position next to her. Kate glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering if he was going to be sick. If she thought she was going to be sick, there was a fair chance he actually would be. He looked pale, and she lowered her voice so that her boys couldn't hear.

"Castle, maybe you should wait outside…"

He looked at her. "No. Please? I'm okay."

"You look pale. I can't have you throwing up in my crime scene."

The words sounded harsh, but her voice was gentle. He knew what she meant. He always did. "I'm okay."

"Detective Beckett?" Kate turned her eyes to see a man in a suit standing in front of her. He was the same height as her and heavy-set, a thick blond mustache and goatee adorning his face. "I'm Detective Carmichael."

"Nice to meet you," Kate said, shaking his hand. "This is Detectives Ryan and Esposito," she gestured over her shoulder, "and my partner, Rick Castle." Uh-oh. She'd never called him her partner before. Esposito and Ryan caught it instantly. They looked at her in amazement, and Kate cleared her throat. "He consults on our cases," she tried again.

Carmichael nodded. "I'm aware. Your reputation precedes you; your team has the best arrest record in the city."

Kate smiled. "Thank you. Is that why we're here?"

"Not quite." Carmichael turned to face the dead body. "Whoever did this left a letter addressed to you."

"I heard. Who's the vic?"

"Twenty-six year old second grade teacher. She was engaged to be married next month."

Kate found it odd that Carmichael didn't start with her name. "And her name?" she prompted.

Carmichael turned his attention back to her. He cleared his throat. "Her name is Katherine Beckett."

Kate stared at him. "Her name is _what_?"Castle said from next to her, his voice not just surprised but…angry? Was he angry? Jesus. He was getting protective again. As if on cue, she felt Esposito and Ryan step up closer behind her, close enough that she felt like her personal space was being invaded. What was with these guys and their frickin' protective instincts? She was a homicide detective, for God's sake. She didn't need bodyguards.

"Let me see the letter," Kate said irritably, holding out her hand to Carmichael. He obliged, and set an envelope in her hand. Kate looked down and read the writing on the front of the envelope, momentarily forgetting how annoying it was to have three men reading over her shoulder.

_The enclosed letter is for Detective Kate Beckett NYPD Precinct 12. Bodies will be found every hour if she isn't put in charge of this case. _

Kate frowned. What the hell?

"Seems you're not the only one who's heard of us," Esposito said to Carmichael. Beckett ignored him and opened the envelope, unfolding a white piece of paper with the same neat, flowing script that was on the front of the envelope. She read it carefully.

_My dear Detective Beckett,_

_ It's terrible, isn't it? Seeing a murder victim who shares your name. I'd suggest it may be a little scary as well, but not much scares you. I'm a fan of yours, you know. A big fan. You are incredibly complex, and it captivates me. Captivates me to the point that I want to see what you're made of. I want to play a game. The rules are simple: you have to find me. Until you do, people will die. People like Katherine Beckett. Until you do, I will put every ounce of my energy into breaking you. I suggest you find me soon, before there's more blood on your hands and before I bring you to your knees. Help me save you, Kate. _

_Game on. _

Kate stared at the letter when she was done reading, trying to process. The first thing that came to her mind wasn't fear or anger or determination, but more of a stunned disbelief. What the hell was happening here? When had she fallen onto the radar of a serial killer? She wracked her brain, trying to remember if she'd ever run a case with a serial killer before. There was one, a year before Castle, but he was in prison for life. It couldn't be him. She didn't generally keep company with psychopaths, so a list of possible suspects wasn't exactly coming to mind either. He said he was a fan, that she captivated him, which implied that she knew him. But Kate didn't know anybody capable of this. Why would a man she had never met before fixate on her? He claimed he would break her, bring her to her knees. Who_ was_ this guy?

It was the second to last line that really got her, though. _Help me save you_. Save her from _what_? There was nothing to save her from. Nothing except himself, maybe.

"Have you ever dealt with a guy like this before?" Carmichael asked.

Kate looked up at him. "No. Never. I've only dealt with one serial, and he's in for life. I have no idea who this guy could be."

"Well he seems to be quite enamored with you," Castle observed. Kate could hear the tightness in his voice. It made her want to kiss him. She resisted, thank God.

"What else can you tell us about Miss…Beckett?" God it felt weird to say her own name. Of course, that's probably what creepy psycho man was going for.

"Not much. Doorman doesn't remember anyone unusual coming in or out, and no one buzzed in to see her. No sign of forced entry at the door."

"So she let him in," Kate said. "She must've known him."

"Or he was someone she knew of," Ryan piped up. "Like a repairman or something. Maybe someone that worked in the building."

"One thing's for sure, she wasn't a random selection," Esposito added. "This guy wanted someone with your name, Beckett."

Kate stared at the woman sitting dead on the couch, drenched in her own blood. She felt queasy again. Katherine Beckett, throat slashed and wrists slit, had died on her couch. It was beyond eerie. She couldn't stifle a sense of guilt, either. Was it her fault this woman was dead? If the victim had another name would she still be alive, planning her wedding and teaching her kids? If Kate hadn't attracted the attention of psychopath, if she hadn't been a detective hell-bent on catching killers, none of this would've happened. Right?

"You're canvassing the area?" she asked Carmichael quietly. "CSU guys are sweeping the room for fingerprints and DNA and anything that can help us?"

"Absolutely. I'm assuming you're taking the lead on this, Detective."

Kate looked at the heavy-set detective next to her. "It's your jurisdiction."

"I appreciate the respect. But let's be honest, here; this guy isn't a joke. He knew exactly what he was doing, and murder doesn't get much more brutal than this." Carmichael gestured to the living room that was covered in red. "I don't see why our units can't work together, with you as lead."

Kate nodded. "Sounds fine to me. I'll leave your guys to do their work; we can reconvene tomorrow?"

"Sure. My unit will be at your precinct at nine o'clock sharp tomorrow morning."

X-X-X-X-X

"It's not a direct threat, Captain," Kate argued, losing her patience rapidly. "He made no threat against me or anyone on my team. All he said was that he wants to play some sick game, and he wants me to play it with him."

"I understand that," Montgomery said, sitting behind his desk and watching his best detective pace across his office like a caged lioness. The other members of her team, including her shadow, were sitting quietly nearby in chairs. "But I'm still concerned, Beckett. He did say he wants to break you. He murdered a woman who has your name."

"To get my attention," Kate disputed. "That's all. Look, this guy's got a savior complex. The psychologist just told you that after he read the letter. He thinks he's saving me. He thinks he's doing me a favor."

Montgomery stared at her, unconvinced. It was then that Rick spoke for the first time since the meeting had started. Esposito and Ryan remained silent, reading the strut in Beckett's step and knowing their heads would roll if they put a toe out of line.

"Sir, I think I can help here." Kate whirled on him, glaring. She saw the wince in his expression, subtle enough that no one else would see but clear enough that she knew he hated stepping on her toes. "I have a spare bedroom at my loft. Detective Beckett can stay with me."

"Castle," Beckett warned. She'd been planning to stay with him anyway, though it had nothing to do with her safety. But if she wanted to keep their...well, whatever it was they were doing, out of the office, she needed to play along. She glared at the writer.

"I'm not staying at your loft."

"I promise I'll be a good boy," Rick said, holding his hands up innocently. Damn, he could play his part perfectly. He looked at Montgomery. "It's the most secure building in the city, Captain. I've got personal security hired in addition to the building staff because of Alexis. You can't breathe in that building without someone knowing."

Kate glanced at her Captain. He was buying it. She kicked it up a notch. "Captain, this is ridiculous. I'm not going to run and hide because some guy killed a woman who has the same name as me-"

"Enough, Beckett." She fell silent, waiting for the verdict. "You either stay with Castle, or you let me send some blue and whites home with you. Your choice."

"Captain-"

"I won't lose my best investigator," he interrupted authoritatively. It was the closest he'd gotten to complimenting her all week. "Pick your poison."

"Fine," Kate snapped. Even to her ears, she sounded royally pissed. She turned to Rick. "I'll be sleeping with my gun, Castle."

He grinned. "Excellent. I'll bring my vest."

X-X-X-X-X

"That smells unbelievable," Kate purred in Rick's ear, wrapping her arms around his midsection while he stood at the stove.

Rick put a hand over Kate's hands and turned his head to kiss the top of her forehead. "Thank you. Are you hungry?"

"Starved. What did you make me?"

"Chicken and Gnocchi Verona. My take on Olive Garden's recipe. I know you like gnocchi."

Kate smiled and pressed her nose into Rick's shoulder, inhaling the scent of him. She didn't think she'd ever get sick of it. "I do," she agreed. "And I like you for knowing that."

Rick switched the burner off and moved the pan he'd been stirring to a cool burner. He turned around to face her, slinking his arms around her waist. "I like knowing things about you," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her. "You're very interesting."

"Interesting enough to inspire a hit series of murder mysteries?"

"Eh. Maybe not that interesting."

Kate laughed. She seemed to do that a lot when she was with him. She lifted her hand and ran her fingers over his black eye, which was now a shining purple bruise. "Does it still hurt?"

"If I told you yes would you nurse me back to health?"

"Possibly."

"Maybe in the slutty nurse outfit I bought the other day?"

"You want matching black eyes, Rick?"

He grinned. "Hey, I'm always game for roughhousing."

They stared at each other, trying to fight off smiles, but they couldn't. They both started giggling like teenagers. Kate stood on her tip toes to kiss him, thinking it would be quick, but Rick had other ideas. His tongue slid along her bottom lip, his hands clutching at her hips, and Kate's mind went fuzzy. It was only once they'd stumbled into his bedroom and somehow lost half their clothing on the way that Kate remembered dinner.

"Wait…" she murmured, fighting the moan sitting on the tip of her tongue as Rick moved his mouth's assault to her neck. "Dinner," she managed breathlessly.

"Later," he whispered, and then he found that spot on her neck that…_Oh God, yes_.

Dinner could wait.

X-X-X-X-X

"So you think you know the guy who killed that girl with your name?"

Kate was sitting next to Rick on the couch, curled up into his side with her knees up by her chest. She was wearing his shirt, of course; it was what she always did after they had sex. Kate put on the shirt he'd been wearing, and Rick lounged in his boxers. It was their routine. Rick had his arm draped over her shoulders, running his fingers through her hair gently. Kate held a plate of their dinner in between them, and lifted the fork to Rick's mouth as she shook her head.

"I don't think so. Nothing seemed familiar. It's like I told Carmichael; I've only worked one serial before and that guy's in for life. This guy has to be new."

Rick chewed what she'd fed him, his face thoughtful. "Maybe he's not from a serial case. Maybe he's from a different case."

"Maybe. But even if he is, there's no way to know which one. You know how many cases I get in a year? It would take weeks to search the files, and even if we had that kind of time we don't know what to look for."

"So what do we do now? Just wait for him to kill again?"

Kate sighed. She really didn't want another body. But what could she do? "I don't know," she answered truthfully, pushing the gnocchi around the plate absently. "I'd rather not, but we've got nothing to go on. We're just going to have to hope that Carmichael's guys pull something from the scene."

Kate wasn't optimistic that they would. Whoever this psycho was, he seemed very organized. If she had to guess, she'd say he planned everything down to the second. Guys like that were a lot harder to catch than the crime of passion guys; at least the spur of the moment ones left clues. The meticulous ones made her job so much harder.

Suddenly Kate felt the plate being lifted out of her hands. She watched as Rick set it on the coffee table and pulled her closer. "Let's not talk about the case. It makes you all thoughtful and serious."

"Someone is dead," Kate answered. "I should be serious."

Rick smiled at her and brushed his fingers along her jaw. "Take your cape off, love. I promise I'll let you put it back on tomorrow."

God, there was so much to think about in that sentence. First the pet name. He always called her that when they were alone. He called her Beckett, Detective, or Becks at work; Kate or Becks in front of his mother and daughter; but _love_…that was only when they were alone. She wasn't sure how she felt about it. Okay, so she was sure. She liked it. A lot. But she wasn't sure if she liked that she liked it. She didn't want to think about why.

And then the cape. He said that to her whenever she was too consumed with a case. It always irritated her initially; part of her wondered if her mother's killer would've been found if the detectives in charge of her case had worn their capes a little more. On the other hand, the way he said it always got to her. It was all in his voice, in the way he looked at her. He wasn't telling her she couldn't be Superwoman. He was just telling her that she needed a break. And he was right. Without some separation, this job would eat her alive. Thank God for Rick; she really didn't know how she'd survived without him.

Wait. Had she really just thought that? Oh, shit.

"Okay," she said out loud before her mind could run off any farther in the direction it was going. "Cape is off. What now?"

Rick grinned. "Wanna play a game?"

"Oh Jesus," Kate groaned, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling. "Isn't that how you seduced me the first time?"

"Hey. You totally wanted me to seduce you."

"I did not!"

"You did too. You should've seen the way you were glaring at Amy…if looks could kill, she would've keeled over on the spot."

"She was too perky," Kate defended. She knew he wouldn't buy it.

He didn't. "Right. And that's the _only _reason you didn't like her."

"Are you under some arrogant delusion that I was jealous?"

"Incredibly jealous," Rick clarified, grinning. "But don't worry. Amy has nothing on you."

Damn it. She hated when he was all sweet and cute and romantic. Lie. She didn't hate it. She loved it. But she was going to pretend she didn't. It was safer that way.

"Gosh thanks," she muttered, rising from the couch and grabbing the plate to take to the sink. "I'm glad the perky twenty-four year old blond has nothing on me."

Rick followed her into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her from behind when she got to the sink. "Don't be jealous, love. She meant nothing."

Kate didn't turn around. "Didn't you guys date for as long as we've been…as long as we've…since we played truth or dare?"

"Yes. But it's always been you, Becks. You know that." Kate didn't say anything. She just let the water from the faucet wash away the leftover food, watching it fall into the black abyss of the garbage disposal. She felt Rick lean down and nibble her ear. "Kate," he said after a minute.

"Hmm?" Kate hummed, setting the plate down in the sink.

"Will you go on a date with me?"

She froze. Rick was silent, waiting for her answer, and Kate panicked. What should she say? What should she do? Was he trying to make it official? Was she ready for that? What if he fell in love with her? What if it was really Nikki Heat he wanted, and not her? What if they broke up? What if he found someone else? Oh God. Holy mother of God.

She turned around, still in his arms. "What do you want to date me for?" she teased, sliding her arms up around his neck. "You already got me in bed."

He didn't smile. "This is more than sex, Kate."

"I know," she said defensively.

"So when are you going to let me take you out on a real date? When can I stop having to do the awkward mental pause every time I want to call you my girlfriend?"

Kate bit her lip and looked away from him, staring at nothing and everything. She honestly didn't know how to answer that. Being Richard Castle's girlfriend was one thing; the money, the media and paparazzi, the crazy fan girls. It was way more attention than she liked. She'd be so far out of her comfort zone she wouldn't even be able to see it anymore. But being Rick's girlfriend…that was a whole different set of issues. Issues that made her heart hurt because she was so used to shoving her feelings under the rug and buffing up her armor that she couldn't remember the last time she had felt this way about a man.

Rick waited for a moment, and then surprised her by sweeping her up into hug. "Okay," he whispered in her ear. "More time. But someday…"

She didn't let him finish. "I know."

X-X-X-X-X

Mark smiled. It was easy. So easy, and yet it would make such a huge impact. Kate Beckett was extraordinarily private. Her business was her business and no one else's; that was her philosophy. Having her business out there for the entire world to see would be incredibly difficult for her. She'd be humiliated, furious, and desperate for someone to punish. Rick Castle would be first in the line of fire, because it was his fault in the first place.

It only took a few pictures. A few pictures and maybe Kate Beckett could save a few lives by ending all this before it began. And if not…well, then she would be one inch closer to being on her knees.


	3. Intrusion

Kate ducked out of the rear entrance of Castle's building early the next morning, around seven o'clock. She'd originally started toward the front entrance, but stopped when she saw a rather large crowd on the sidewalk outside. She peered at them discreetly through the windows from the lobby, wondering what the hell a crowd was doing outside an upper class apartment building at seven in the morning. She supposed that if Castle lived here, there were probably some other rich and famous people that did too. After all, he'd said himself it was the most secure building in the city. Some starlet resident had probably done something stupid the night before and now the press was lying in wait. Kate didn't feel like dealing with it, so she snuck out the back and into a cab.

She didn't need to go back to her apartment; with her cover unintentionally created by Montgomery, she and Rick had picked up a bunch of clothes and things from her apartment on the way to his loft from the crime scene. She'd left Rick asleep in bed, because he didn't need to be at the precinct until nine for the meeting with Carmichael and his team. Kate wanted to be at the precinct early to go over Tracy Stanton's file and maybe talk to Marco again. She wasn't going to let this mysterious new murderer take her focus away from Tracy anymore than she was going to let him scare her into feeling like a predator's prey. Tracy Stanton deserved justice and she would get it, just like the woman who shared Kate's name. Both of them would get justice, Kate would make sure of that. And if in the process she happened to kick the crazy guy's ass, even better. All in a day's work, right?

As Kate stared out the window of the cab while it weaved through New York to the precinct, she realized how good she felt. She'd had a great night with Rick, barring her little episode of panic, because he'd managed to get her mind completely off of the brutally murdered Katherine Beckett and the guilt she inexplicably felt. He had this incredible ability of making her laugh, of allowing her to forget the god awful things she saw at work and just be human. Not superhuman. Just human. Just Kate. It was a nice change of pace.

And yet, there was still the panic. He'd asked her on a date. Again. And she'd sidestepped him. Again. She just couldn't do it. Not yet. There were too many uncertainties. She knew going on a date, making it official, would mean that she was in it for the long haul. That scared the hell out of her. Castle was so much larger than life; the money, the fame, the way he made her feel…could she really deal with that? Could she cope with her world and her heart being turned upside down like that?

Kate had the cabbie drop her off at the Starbucks that was down the street from the precinct. As she stepped into the back of the line, rifling through her purse for her wallet, she suddenly felt like she was being watched. Goosebumps raced across her skin like wildfire, and she stopped looking for her wallet long enough to brush her hand over her gun and glance around the coffeehouse.

She was being watched. Watched by…everyone? What the hell? Maybe not everyone. But definitely quite a few people. People were staring at her, whispering, and she frowned. She looked down at her red coat, wondering if she had something on the front of it. Nope. She glanced in the reflection of the glass covering the bakery items. Nothing on her face either.

Kate wondered if maybe it had something to do with Nikki Heat. She'd had her picture taken during the book release party; maybe people were recognizing her. She'd been asked for autographs before. She sighed. This was exactly one of the reasons why she wasn't sure about Rick; she hadn't become a cop to be famous. She became a cop to catch the bad guys, to give families the closure that she'd never gotten. It was a lot harder to do that if she was some sort of celebrity.

Kate ignored the way the college guy behind the counter stared at her, got her drink, and then bolted the hell out of there. She hurried into the precinct, realizing that people on the street were double taking at her too. Maybe _Heat Wave_ had just undergone some publicity work in New York and that's why she was being stared at. Whatever. She just wanted to get to work.

Once she was safe inside the precinct and sitting at her desk, everything sort of faded away. She hovered over Tracy's file and the murder board, sipping her coffee and searching desperately for something she'd missed yesterday. When she felt like her brain was starting to ooze out of her ears she switched to the Katherine Beckett case, which she'd devoted the other half of the murder board to. She went on like that, switching between the two dead women and hunting for leads, until Esposito appeared next to her.

"Hey boss."

She didn't look away from the murder board, caught up in a connection in the Tracy Stanton case she thought she found. "Morning Esposito," she answered offhandedly.

He hovered next to her, his hands in his pockets, and after a full minute Kate looked at him. He was looking at her funny, and she frowned at him. "What're you gawking at, Espo? You're acting like Castle."

When Esposito didn't crack a smile Kate's frown deepened. "Do you read the papers?" he asked her randomly.

Kate stared at him. "Umm, sometimes. Why?"

"Did you read them this morning?"

"No. Why, is our case in them?"

"Not exactly…"

Kate rose from where she was perched on the edge of her desk. "What's wrong with you, Esposito?"

He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "I think maybe I should tell you something…"

Over Esposito's shoulder, Kate caught sight of Detective Carmichael and the rest of his team getting off of the elevator with Ryan. She put a hand out to stop him. "Can it wait? We've got work to do." She didn't wait for an answer. She started toward the other detectives, smiling and shaking Carmichael's hand when she saw him. She motioned him into the conference room nearby. Carmichael didn't even wait until they were through the door.

"We might've caught a break, Beckett," he said excitedly, tossing an evidence bag at her. "Look what we found in between the cushions of the couch."

Kate caught it gracefully, but grunted at the weight. "A book?" she wondered out loud, turning it over in her hands. She paused, her fingers tightening over the book through the bag. "Ryan. Get me a pair of gloves." Ryan handed her a pair of latex gloves a second later, and Kate set the bag down on the table and pulled the gloves on. When she pulled the book out of the bag, she ran her gloved fingers over the faded leather binding.

"_The Wings of the Dove_ by Henry James," she murmured, her index finger trailing over the peeling gold lettering of the title.

"You know it?" Carmichael asked from next to her.

"It's my favorite book. And judging from our killer's letter yesterday, I don't think that's a coincidence."

"No, I'd say not," Carmichael agreed. He nodded at the book. "The break I was talking about is inside the front cover."

Kate opened the book to see the same flowing script that the letter addressed to her at the crime scene had been written in, only this time it was on the inside cover of her favorite book.

_Kate,_

_It's your favorite, right? It took me quite a while to find a copy this old…but you're worth it. Your next crime scene is within Kate Croy. If you find it early enough, you may find me before I kill again. If not, you'll have more deaths on your hands. _

_Aren't games fun?_

"Who's Kate Croy?" Ryan wondered from over Kate's shoulder.

"She's the main character in this book," Kate answered. She turned to the rest of the detectives in the room. "Are any of you Henry James fans? Have any of you read this book?"

"I have."

Kate frowned. She hadn't seen who said it. "Who?" The detectives parted to reveal Rick standing in the doorway. Kate smirked at him and glanced at her watch. "Castle. Nice to know punctuality is high on your list of priorities."

He cracked a faint smile, but there was nothing genuine behind it. Kate's stomach dropped immediately. When Rick wasn't smiling, something was wrong. She gave him a look that conveyed her question. He slid his hands in his pockets.

"Can I have a minute of your time, Detective Beckett?"

Oh crap. Not Beckett, not Becks, but _Detective Beckett_. What was going on? Déjà vu hit her, and she realized the look on his face was the same expression he'd worn when he murmured those awful words _it's about your mother_ at the hospital. Kate felt her heart twist painfully. She set the book down.

"Of course."

She ignored the looks the other detectives were giving her, especially the intense stares she was receiving from her two boys. When she was outside the conference room and the door was shut safely behind her, she looked at Rick.

"What's wrong?" she demanded quietly, turning toward him. "Is something wrong with Alexis or Martha?"

"No, no, they're fine." He wouldn't look at her. Kate was starting to worry.

"Rick," she said firmly. He finally looked up at her. "What the hell is going on?"

He was opening his mouth to tell her when Montgomery suddenly appeared. "Beckett." The Captain's eyes shifted to Rick. "And Castle. I need you both in my office. Now."

Kate watched as something shivered across Rick's face, a mix of emotions she couldn't quite define. She felt like she was the last one to know something, and it irritated the hell out of her. She strode after Montgomery, her heels clicking furiously on the floor.

"Sir, what is this about?"

"Not now, Beckett."

"But-"

"Beckett." His voice was a warning. Kate shut up, but she wasn't happy about it. The moment they were in the Captain's office and the door was shut, Kate started again.

"Sir, I really-"

"Have you seen the tabloids, Beckett?"

That stopped her. She watched as Montgomery sank into his desk chair, looking tired. "No," she answered.

"Castle?"

Kate turned to Rick in time to see him nod. "Yes, sir. I have." He looked at Kate. "How did you get out of the building this morning?"

"I took a cab from the back entrance. There was a crowd in the front and I didn't want to push through so I…" she trailed off. Something was pushing at her in the back of her mind, a realization that she didn't quite have a grasp on yet. She struggled to find it, running through what she knew. A crowd outside of Castle's building. People staring at her. Esposito needing to tell her something. Castle needing to tell her something. Tabloids.

She turned her eyes back to Montgomery, because the look on Rick's face was making her sick to her stomach.

"Captain?"

Montgomery sighed and held out a paper. "Let's start with the _Daily News_."

Kate took the paper out of his hand and looked down at it. The second she did, she regretted it.

She was on the front page of the _Daily News_. Correction: she and Castle were on the front page of the _Daily News_. Making out. She was wearing nothing but his shirt, her bare legs visible from mid thigh until the knee, where the photo cut off. She had her arms wrapped around Rick's neck, and his arms were wrapped around her waist. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but boxers. The headline, which was bold, black, and violent, blared the words: _**Blurred Lines of**_ _**Reality and Fiction: Richard Castle and Real Life Nikki Heat Get Hot and Heavy.**_

Kate recognized Rick's loft in the background in the same instant she realized that the shirt of Rick's she was wearing in the picture was the same shirt she'd been wearing last night. His boxers were the same too. Holy shit, someone had taken a picture of them _last night_.

Kate stared at the picture, feeling the breath leave her body unbearably slow. They'd been caught. Not just caught, but caught in the act. Half naked, making out, alone in his loft. There was no way to defend that. Absolutely no way at all. How had that picture even been taken? Rick lived twenty floors up; it wasn't as if someone could just creep around the windows. How the hell…

She couldn't look at it anymore. She slapped the paper down onto Montgomery's desk and walked toward the other side of the office, her back toward her boss and her…what was she even supposed to call him? She put her hand up by her face and pinched the bridge of her nose. A migraine worse than she'd ever experienced before was about to take over.

"Fuck," she whispered, but it echoed through the office anyway.

"That's just one," Montgomery said from behind her. "_New York Post_ says _**Richard Castle and Muse Caught in Late Night Romp**_. _The Enquirer_ says_** Richard Castle Mixes Business with Pleasure with NYPD Detective**_. _USA Today_-"

"She gets it," Rick interrupted. Kate could hear the strain in his voice. She didn't turn around.

"My name is in all of them?" she asked quietly.

"Every one," Montgomery said. "You're busted, Beckett."

God damn it. Busted. Busted for doing the first reckless thing she'd ever done. God damn it.

"Beckett," Montgomery said. If he said her name like that one more time, she'd break the first thing she could get her hands on. "You've put yourself in quite a position. Sneaking around like this…you were bound to get caught. I'm honestly surprised by your lack of forethought, and by your failure to notify the proper parties. Myself included."

Kate closed her eyes. She was going to blow. Honest to God, her head was going to explode.

"If you had disclosed the relationship from the beginning, there wouldn't have been a media fire storm."

She couldn't take it anymore. She spun around, ready to do she didn't even know what, but Montgomery put a hand up to stop her.

"That being said, I understand why you didn't."

Kate stared at her Captain, stunned. He held her eyes, his elbows resting on the desk and his hands folded, almost looking…sympathetic? She didn't know what to say.

"However, damage control is going to be difficult. The department can only do so much. I want you to take the rest of the day off. Both of you."

"Sir-"

"No arguments."

"But my cases, sir. I need-"

"Ryan and Esposito are perfectly capable, as is Detective Carmichael's team. They can manage without you for a day. They'll let you know if something major comes up."

Beckett locked her jaw, breathing steadily through her nose, trying and failing to control her temper. This couldn't be happening. This morning everything had been fine. Great, even. And now…now she was plastered all over the tabloids with a man who she wasn't even willing to go on a date with because she was so emotionally stunted. A psychopath was leaving her cryptic messages on the inside cover of her favorite book, two women were dead and had families depending on her to bring them closure, and she had to _go home_? What was she supposed to do all day, watch soap operas and eat bon-bons?

"I've sent blue and whites to your respective apartments," Montgomery continued. "They'll make sure you get past the press safely. Unless you're going to the same place." His eyebrows lifted as he glanced between the detective and the writer.

"No," Kate answered. "I'm going to my apartment."

She felt Rick's eyes on her instantly, begging to know why, but he knew better than to ask in front of Montgomery. She didn't look at him. She couldn't. She couldn't even define her emotions to herself at the moment, let alone define them to Rick.

"Fine," Montgomery acknowledged. "Get going then. And I mean it, Beckett. I don't want to see you within one hundred yards of this precinct or a crime scene. Do you understand?"

She met his eyes. "Yes, sir."

He held her gaze for a moment, and she could've sworn she saw his expression soften. She looked away instantly, uncomfortable. That kind of shit didn't happen at the precinct. Cops specialized in gallows humor, not lingering, sympathetic gazes. And from Montgomery, of all people. God, this day was awful.

She turned away from him and headed for the door, brushing by Rick without a word. His eyes were glued on her, pleading for any sort of acknowledgment, but she was incapable. Her hand closed around the door handle and swung the door open. She stepped out into the bullpen, only to be stopped by a detective getting in her way as he walked past.

It was Nick Gaines, a narcotics guy. Kate hated him, and he knew it. He was an arrogant ass, who'd been insufferable ever since she'd turned down his invitation for drinks. He made eye contact with her as he walked by. He winked and held up a copy of the _Daily News_. "Nice legs, Beckett."

Kate froze, embarrassment and anger holding her tongue. Gaines kept walking, a moronic smirk on his face. As soon as his eyes were off of Kate and facing in front of him again, his face was met squarely by the fist of Javier Esposito.

The force of the punch knocked Gaines backward and sent him tumbling onto the floor, the contact of fist and face cracking through the precinct. Gaines' hands flew to his nose, which was already starting to bleed. Esposito towered over Gaines, his index finger pointed in the narcotics detective's face.

"Shut your fucking mouth Gaines," Esposito snarled. Gaines just stared up at the homicide detective, his eyes wide. Esposito turned his attention to the bullpen, where all activity had come to a halt. Dozens of detectives were staring, mouths open in shock. Esposito glared at them all. "Anybody else got something they'd like to say?" he challenged. Nobody said a word.

Kate watched as Esposito turned toward her and held out his non-punching hand, which was holding her coat and purse. "I'm taking you home, Beckett."

"You don't have to-"

"I said I'm taking you home." His eyes locked in on hers. She could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't going to back down.

Kate reached for her coat.

X-X-X-X-X

It was the worst nightmare of someone as private as Kate Beckett.

There was hardly a crowd outside of the precinct; the majority of the press weren't willing to wait outside of a police station and tempt the cops who were just waiting for an excuse to protect one of their own. It hadn't been difficult to slide into Esposito's Crown Vic and peel out into the city streets. The crowd in front of her apartment building though…holy shit.

A uniformed officer opened the door for Kate when they pulled up to her building; he literally had to shove paparazzi out of the way in order to get it open. As soon as the door opened the crowd erupted into a frenzy. Cameras flashed incessantly, bright and blinding, while at least half a dozen microphones were suddenly shoved in Kate's way. Esposito was by her side in an instant, guiding her by gripping her right elbow. One officer walked on the left side of her and two walked in front, chopping their way through the press like they were forging a path through the rainforest. But it was the questions that were the worst.

"Miss Beckett! How long have you been sleeping with Rick Castle?"

"Do you two role play as Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook?"

"What's Rick's favorite position?"

"Are you in a committed relationship, or is it just sex?"

"Is Rick as good in bed as we've heard?"

Kate leaned into Esposito, and his hold on her elbow tightened protectively. She watched as he shoved a reporter who got too close in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. She felt like she couldn't breathe, like she'd never get out of the crowd and into the safety and privacy of her apartment.

One particularly persistent reporter somehow dodged the officer on Kate's left just long enough to shove a microphone in her face and ask, "What's it like being Rick Castle's newest fuck buddy?"

She hadn't realized how badly words could hurt until that very moment. Fuck buddy? Is that all she was for Rick? Is that what they saw her as? She was just another woman on Rick Castle's laundry list of women. Just another girl. His muse, his plaything. _My God, _she thought. _How did I ever think this could work?_

And then, like breaking the surface of the ocean after thinking she would drown, Kate stepped over the threshold of her apartment building. The doors closed behind her; the media wasn't permitted inside. She was thrust into silence, but Esposito didn't release her elbow until he'd led her to the elevator and pressed the button for her.

He turned to face her. "You okay, Beckett?"

She nodded. She'd gone numb. "Yeah."

"I can stay," he offered. "If you want."

Kate felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes. First Montgomery, now Esposito. And after he'd socked Gaines, too. Ryan would've done the same thing, she knew, but he'd offered to drive Castle home. Kate looked up at Esposito.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you."

He nodded. "Okay. You'll call me if you need something?"

"Sure. And you'll call me if you find anything, I mean _anything_ that-"

"You'll be the first to know," he cut her off gently.

She nodded. "Thank you."

He stared at her for a little while longer, and then thumped her on the back. "Later, Beckett." She gave him a halfhearted but appreciative smile and then stepped onto the elevator, which had arrived. As the doors were closing, her phone rang. She flipped it open and put it to her ear.

"Beckett."

"Kate? It's Dad."

Kate closed her eyes. God, his voice was a relief. "Hi Dad."

"Honey…I think I'm looking at your picture in the _Daily News_…"


	4. Flavor of the Week

_**Hello all. I hope you're enjoying the ride. Thank you so very much for your reviews. They really encourage me to keep this story going. I'm hoping as things get more intense and emotional for Beckett and Castle, both in their relationship and in regards to other things, that I am keeping them in character. It's difficult, given the fact that we've never seen them in these situations on the show. And for those of you that are feeling bad for Kate already…oh dear. The hunt has barely begun. But anyway, here's the next installment. Enjoy, and keep me posted on your thoughts please :) **_

Kate's eyes flew open. Oh, God. Jesus God. She hadn't even thought about the fact that her dad would see the pictures. She was half naked in those pictures. Making out with a famous novelist. God. She had the sudden urge to crawl into a hole and disappear.

"Yeah," was the only thing she could think to say to him at first. And then, "You and half of America, Dad. The other half just isn't awake yet."

The silence on the other end of the line hurt her ears. Kate and her dad didn't exactly have heart to hearts every week; in fact, they didn't really talk about anything pertaining to her private life. It was an understanding they'd come to, mostly because Kate had snapped at him once that he had no business acting like her father when he'd been too drunk to be her father before. She'd felt bad, of course. Apologized even. But her mother's death had changed them both into two different people, and they'd never really figured out how to salvage their father-daughter relationship to fit their new personalities.

"Are you okay?" her father asked after an eternity.

"Yeah."

"You can come here. To the house. If you want. If there's people bothering you."

It was probably just the intensity of the range of emotions she'd already experienced that morning, but his tentative invitation made her throat tight and her eyes burn. She'd never been a daddy's girl, but for half a second she couldn't think of anything she wanted more than to run home to her dad.

"Thanks, Dad, but I'm fine. I've got work and stuff."

"Right. Of course."

Another long pause. Kate struggled to find something to say. The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped off. "Maybe some other time," she offered.

"Yeah. That would be nice." Another pause. God, this was awkward. "So you're seeing that Castle guy now?" His voice was so small, so hesitant, like he was afraid she would yell at him. A year or two ago she might've.

"It's kind of complicated, Dad."

"Right. Sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

Was she a terrible person? For not calling him more, for not letting him into her life? Was she doing it wrong? She knew her mother would've been disappointed, but it was so damn hard to look at him sometimes. To think of all the times she'd cleaned up the beer bottles, the times she'd had to leave her dorm at three in the morning to pick him up from the bar. He was sober now and he made a serious effort to be a good father, but he'd inflicted some incredibly deep wounds. She hadn't healed yet.

Kate stopped in front of her door, fiddling with her keys. "Listen, I've got to go," she said quietly. It was really hitting her now, now that her dad had called and made her realize that this wasn't all just a god awful nightmare. She felt like the walls were closing in on her.

"Okay. Um…the offer still stands if you change your mind. Anytime, Katie."

Not the nickname. Damn it. Kate's front door was suddenly blurry. She was not going to cry. Fuck no. "Thanks Dad. See ya."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate couldn't remember the last time she had actually cried.

When her mother died, part of Kate had died too. A part she knew she could never, ever get back. That part of her had been the part that cried. When Kate stood in the cemetery next to her dad, staring at the wooden box that contained the body of her mother, she'd promised herself she wouldn't cry. It would make things harder for her dad, and he was having a hard enough time as it was. Plus people would feel sorry for her, and they'd think she was weak. She refused to be weak, refused to let people see that her mother's death hadn't just hurt her, but had completely and irrevocably shattered her. Nothing would ever be the same again, including the way she had relationships with people. After all, what was the point of letting people in when they could leave at any moment? It was better to keep everyone at a distance, prevent emotions and attachments, and never, ever cry.

And yet, here she was. Crying. She was standing in the shower with the water pounding around her, steam curling and wafting throughout the shower stall. The water was boiling hot, maybe hot enough to burn her, but she didn't care. She couldn't feel it. She had her hands planted on the tile wall and her head bent, the shower head thumping water down against the back of her head and neck. Her eyes were closed but the tears were squeezing out anyway, mixing with the water of the shower and spinning down the drain and away forever.

She didn't know why the hell she was crying. Maybe it was the fact that her dad had seen her half naked and making out with a famous novelist on the front page of a tabloid at the supermarket.

Maybe it was the way the press pushing against her from all sides had felt so suffocating, so violating, that the only thing she could think to do was shower. Maybe it was the way her colleagues at the precinct had looked at her when she'd walked out of Montgomery's office, the way they'd stared after Esposito had broken Gaines's nose. Maybe it was Gaines. Maybe it was the fact that she was now the hottest gossip in America. She opened her eyes.

Maybe it was the idea of being Rick Castle's fuck buddy.

A violent batch of tears ran from her eyes suddenly, and Kate took a deep, shuddering breath. That was it, wasn't it? Everything else was horrible: her dad, the press, the gossip. It all sucked. But coming face to face with her label as Rick's newest conquest had been like a sucker punch right to the gut. That's what she had been afraid of all along; being the one-night stand girl, the bed romp that put another notch in his belt.

She knew she was being unfair. How many times had Rick told her that it wasn't just sex? That he wanted more? That she was not, and could never be, just a conquest? But regardless of his words, there was something about the label. Something that made her feel so…foul. The media had already labeled her. She was in the fucking tabloids at the supermarket, right out there for her dad see, labeled as the next girl who had spread her legs for Rick Castle.

It was humiliating.

It made her fears from the past few weeks, the fears that had kept her from agreeing to an official date, seem very, very real. The media attention she would get as Rick Castle's girlfriend; the incessant probing into her private life, her life with Rick…she couldn't deal with that. She didn't know how to deal with it. Rick may have mastered the world of fame and fortune, but she was a homicide detective. She couldn't have paparazzi tailing her while she examined a crime scene. She couldn't have them prying into her personal life. It just wasn't her.

The tears were coming at a furious pace now. She couldn't do this thing with Rick, could she? It was one thing to be afraid of how she felt about him. To be terrified that she could actually fall in love with Castle, and that he might fall in love back. But the life that she would have to lead…she couldn't do it. She couldn't be with Rick. She couldn't do it.

That's why she was crying. Because at some point in the past three weeks, whether she would ever admit it openly or not, she'd already started to think about how her life would look with the addition of Castle. Nothing was official, there was no pressure, she'd never said it out loud or even implied it to anyone. But sometimes, when she would wake up in the middle of the night with his arms around her, she would let her mind drift there. To that place where Rick Castle wasn't just her favorite author, wasn't just her annoying shadow at work, wasn't just the man who flirted incessantly with her. He was something else. Someone else.

All that had changed today. The flashes of the cameras, the questions, the stares…everything had changed. Everything was suddenly in a blindingly clear light, and Kate wasn't waffling anymore. Rick couldn't be that someone. She supposed her realization had always been inevitable. Had she really thought that she could slide past the tabloids unnoticed, even after they became official? Had she really thought that she could trust him, let him in? Did she really think she was more than the muse that had graduated to bed partner? Fuck buddy. God, the words still hurt.

Kate shut the faucet off and stood dripping in the shower, her hands on her hips and her head bent, the steam still curling around her. Sometime in the past three weeks, she'd started to fall for Rick Castle.

Now she had to figure out how to un-fall for him.

X-X-X-X-X

Kate couldn't say whether the day had gone by fast or slow. Sometimes it was painfully slow. Nothing was on TV except for those god awful soap operas that she couldn't bring herself to watch because the acting was so bad and the plot lines were even worse. Nothing was in her fridge except a gallon of milk, six eggs, a half empty bottle of red Gatorade, and a block of Romano cheese. Nothing much in the cupboards either. It was evidence of how many meals she ate with Rick; she didn't need to stock her fridge if he was cooking.

She tried to read, but she wasn't in the mood. She didn't want to go anywhere near _Heat Wave_, or any of Castle's books for that matter. Needing to stay away made things worse, since his work had been such a comfort to her in the past. Now it was a painful reminder, and she was disappointed to think that she would never be able to derive comfort from them again. She got on her laptop for a little bit, but when her homepage popped up with the breaking news of her and Castle, she shut the lid brutally and barely resisted throwing it across the room.

At other times, the day passed by relatively fast. She tackled a massive puzzle that her dad had bought her a few years ago, and two hours slipped by unnoticed. When all the pieces started to look the same, she gave up. She threw a tennis ball against the wall for a while, but that got old too. She ended up lying on the floor and staring up at the ceiling blankly. This was exactly why she never took any time off work; she had nothing to do.

At six o'clock Kate decided she had to get out. She was going to go crazy if she spent one more minute inside her apartment. And besides that, she needed to talk to Rick. She hadn't figured out how to end things. She didn't want to end things, but she didn't see what other choice she had. She wasn't cut out for this life. Not to mention she was terrified of the fact that she had actually _cried_ this morning in the shower when she'd thought about losing him. Kate Beckett never cried over men, but she'd cried this morning over Rick Castle. She had to get away from him before she started crying about other things too.

She peeked out her window but the crowd was still outside, milling around the front of her building. Damn it. An idea came to her suddenly, and she flew toward her bedroom and thrust her closet doors open. She dug around for a bit, until she let out a small "Ah hah!" under her breath.

A few months ago she'd gone undercover. Deep undercover. Deep as in a platinum blond wig, a slutty dress, and four inch red stilettos. She certainly wasn't going to wear the dress and heels to Castle's, but the wig would go nicely with one of her baggy NYU sweatshirts, a pair of yoga pants, and a hat and sunglasses. Kate pulled on the wig and glanced at herself in the mirror. A laugh bubbled out uninvited; she looked ridiculous. It was perfect. The smile fell from her face when she remembered why she was putting it on.

Castle.

X-X-X-X-X

Reporters were stupid. They hadn't even recognized her; not at her place, and not when she'd pushed through them at Rick's. Kate slid the wig off and stuffed it in her purse with her hat and sunglasses before lifting her hand to knock on Castle's door. She reached up and fluffed her hair as she waited. Her stomach flipped suddenly, and she swallowed. She was nervous. How pathetic.

The door swung open to reveal Alexis. "Kate," Alexis said, surprised. There was a crash and a thud from somewhere within the loft, and then Rick appeared a few yards behind Alexis, his eyes wide.

Kate smiled at Rick's daughter. "Hey Lex."

Alexis grinned and swung the door open. "Come in. I'm glad you're here."

Kate tried to ignore that Rick was staring at her like he hadn't seen her in eight years instead of eight hours. It made her want to melt into his arms and forget everything that had happened that day. She steeled herself internally. That couldn't happen. They needed to talk.

"Really?" she said to Alexis as she stepped into the loft.

"Are you kidding?" Alexis laughed. "Dad's been acting like a crazy man all day. I don't know how you deal with him all day long and still want to see him later."

Kate smiled weakly. "I manage." She finally looked past the teenager and at Rick. He held her eyes, his forehead wrinkled in intensity, and something twisted Kate's heart. He looked so upset. Worried, maybe. Worried about what? That she would be mad? That he would lose her? She was. He might. Oh, God.

Alexis glanced between her dad and the detective, her eyebrows raised. "Oookaaaay. I'm going to go do my homework." She didn't wait for an answer from either of the adults. She bounded toward the stairs, smirking at her dad as she passed him, and then Rick and Kate were alone.

Kate stood just inside the doorway, her hands shoved in her coat pockets. Three weeks ago she'd stood in this exact spot right before they had crossed the line in their relationship that had gotten them into this mess in the first place.

"Hi," Rick said at last.

"Hi."

He took a few steps toward her. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No."

She hadn't meant for it to come out as abruptly as it did. She saw the hurt dance across his face, but she couldn't fix it. Normally she would've softened her voice, touched him, molded her body into his in that way that made her feel so goddamn _complete_, but something held her back. It was like there were chains around her body, keeping her away from him.

Rick slid his hands into his pockets and regarded her steadily. "How are you?"

"I've been better."

"I'm sure."

Kate broke eye contact and looked at the floor. "I'm sorry I didn't come back here with you this morning. I needed some time…"

She looked up to see him nodding. "I understand." He took another step toward her. "It's a lot to deal with. The press, Montgomery and everyone at work…I know it's not how you wanted everyone to find out."

"Find out what?"

"Well that you and I are…" he trailed off, motioning his hands in between his body and hers. Kate gave him a blank look. "That we're together," he finished.

"We are?"

"Kate-"

"Rick," she cut him off. She had to get it out before she lost her nerve. "This is crazy."

"The press? I know."

"No, not the press. Us."

The hurt didn't just dance across his face this time, but took it over completely. "I disagree," he said quietly.

Kate shook her head. "It can't work. It won't work. Look at what happened today. We'll never get any peace-"

"They'll move on."

"When?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. But they always do. They'll find something else, someone else."

"And what do we do until then? I can't even do my job, Rick. I've got two dead bodies on my hands and a crazy guy who wants to push me until I break and you know what I did today? I sat in my apartment and did nothing. _Nothing_. Tax dollars at work."

"I know you're frustrated-"

"Frustrated?" Kate repeated incredulously. "I'm not frustrated. I'm mad as hell."

"So am I," Rick interjected. "I know it's not fair. Kate, I know how you feel-"

"Oh, you do? You know how I feel? Did your father find out that you were seeing a famous author by some racy pictures plastered on the front page of the _Daily News_? Did the paparazzi waiting outside of your apartment ask if I'm as good in bed as everyone says I am? Are there families out there who can't have closure because the goddamn press won't let you do your job? Did one of your coworkers have to throw a punch to shut someone up?"

Rick stared at her, guilt and grief etched in the lines of his face. Kate was fuming, furious, but hurt. God, it hurt. Everything hurt, this whole day sucked. She just wanted it to be over, she wanted everything to be over and back to normal. She wanted to catch bad guys, give people the closure she longed for, walk down the street without being recognized and harassed. She just wanted to be Kate Beckett again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Kate fought against the melting reaction her heart wanted to have. "I'm sorry about everything. If I could change it, I would."

She looked away, gnawing on her lip forcefully. Her hands were still shoved in her coat pockets, and she hadn't moved from her position just inside the doorway.

"The reputation I worked for at the precinct could be ruined," she told him softly after a minute. "Everything I spent years working for, out the window because of one decision." She looked at him again. "Do you know what that's like? To feel like everything that means anything to you is slipping through your fingers and there's nothing you can do about it?"

"It's not slipping through your fingers, Kate. We're not doing anything wrong. We're living our lives; no one can blame us for that."

"No, Rick, no one can blame _you_." She practically spat the words at him. She couldn't contain her anger anymore. It had been building all day, and now it was radiating off of her in waves.

"What?"

Kate's hands finally came out of her pockets. She held them up heatedly. "You're Rick Castle. You could sleep with half the women in New York and nobody would blame you. Boys will be boys, right? But me…they're crucifying me, Rick! I'm not just your muse anymore; I'm the goddamn flavor of the week!"

Her voice was angry, but not too loud. Alexis was upstairs, after all. Rick shook his head. "The press sensationalizes everything, but it won't cost you what you've worked for. I can promise you that. This won't ruin your reputation. You're the best at what you do. Who you date doesn't change that."

She nodded silently for a moment. She should've known it would end up being a fight. She knew what she would say next, knew what would make it more real for him, but the words died on her lips at first. She hated saying it. She did it anyway.

"You know someone called me your fuck buddy today?"

The shock written on his face was painful. "Who?" he demanded. Protective again, she noticed. It was a little too late for that.

"Does it matter?"

He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. He reached out and gripped her arms like he was holding her up. His eyes were so _blue_…

"I can fix this."

"How?"

"I'll have my publicist release a statement." She was already shaking her head but he kept talking anyway. "She'll announce that we're in a committed relationship, have been for quite some time, and that we'd appreciate some privacy and a little respect for your job…"

"That's your solution? You're going to publicly call me your girlfriend and everyone will just leave us alone?"

"What do you want me to do, Kate?" His voice was desperate. "Tell me what you want, I'll do it."

"I don't know what I want. Maybe that's the problem."

They stared at each other, Rick still holding her arms. Kate swallowed and bit her lip. What was she supposed to do now? What was she supposed to say? This wasn't going away. Neither was the terror that tugged on her heart every time she thought of falling in love with Rick.

Suddenly the loft was incredibly hot, stifling, and Kate felt like the walls were closing in around her again. It was the same panic that gripped her every time she felt too much, got too attached, only to remember that the last person she'd allowed herself to be completely attached to had been stolen from her for forever. She pulled out of Rick's arms and turned away, reaching for the doorknob.

"Where are you going?" Rick asked, panic threading through his voice.

She looked at him over her shoulder. "I need some air." She held his gaze for a moment, trying to convey with her eyes everything she couldn't say, but it was useless. She'd always been terrible at communicating her feelings. Maybe it was better this way.

She turned away from him, opened the door, and left. She didn't look back.


	5. How Far We've Come

Kate was back at Castle's door two hours later.

She'd spent the two hours in a coffee shop, staring into a cup of the blackest, thickest coffee in the city, trying to figure out what the hell she wanted.

She wanted Rick Castle. She knew that. She wanted him in every way a woman could want a man. And yet something was holding her back. It took her two hours, but she finally diagnosed what it was that had a hold on her. She supposed she'd always known, but sitting in that little coffee shop she made herself acknowledge it explicitly. Really it was rather simple, only two things:

#1: She was afraid to fall in love with Rick Castle. Afraid he wouldn't love her back; afraid he would love her and then leave her; afraid he would wake up one morning and realize that he didn't want Kate Beckett, he wanted Nikki Heat. Afraid that he would find someone else, someone less wounded. Afraid that she would lose him the way she'd lost her mother.

#2: She didn't want to be a public spectacle. She didn't want paparazzi outside of her apartment, didn't want her father staring at her picture in the tabloids while he waited in line at the grocery store, and definitely didn't want pictures of her and Rick in an intimate moment out there for the entire world to see.

The question was really whether or not she could deal with her self-diagnosed issues and be with Rick. She wanted to, so very badly. When he wasn't around, she missed him. When he was around, she was better, better in every way. So maybe she could deal with her issues. Maybe she still needed time, maybe she still wanted to go slow, but she could deal; if only because she didn't think she could deal without him. After all, she had cried in the shower this morning. _Cried_. Over a _man_. Over Rick frickin' Castle.

She kind of liked him, didn't she?

Christ.

And so she was outside his door. Again. Except she couldn't bring herself to knock. So she slid down the wall next to his door, stretched her legs out, and sat. She didn't know how long she sat there, but when the door opened and she looked up, Alexis was standing there.

"Oh," Alexis murmured, staring down in surprise at the detective.

Kate smiled shyly. "Hi. Sorry. I'm sure this looks…odd."

Alexis smiled kindly. "My dad is Rick Castle, remember? Not much looks weird to me."

"Right," Kate laughed humorlessly. "How could I forget?"

Kate stared down at her hands. After a moment of companionable silence, Alexis closed the door, stepped over Kate's legs, and then slid down the wall and sat next to her.

"How long have you been sitting here?"

Kate shrugged. "I don't know. Long enough to feel like a creeper." She looked up at the teenager. "What's your dad doing?"

"He's been pacing in his office since you left. I think he's afraid you won't come back."

Kate bit her lip. She almost hadn't. She wanted to explain it all to Alexis, get some reassurance that her fears and reluctance weren't totally unfounded, but she hesitated. It probably wasn't a good idea. After all, she was Castle's daughter. She was only a teenager. Not to mention Kate knew for a fact that Alexis looked up to her. She should probably be acting a little more maturely, as in knocking on the door instead of sitting in the hall like a creeper. But then again, something about Alexis just screamed maturity. Kate figured she at least owed the teenager an apology for how the pictures and media frenzy might have affected her.

"I'm guessing you saw the pictures?" she started casually.

Alexis nodded. "Yeah. The crowd outside would've tipped me off even if I hadn't. How'd you get in, anyway?"

Kate smiled. "Platinum blond wig. Didn't even get a second look."

Alexis giggled. "Creative. No wonder Dad likes you."

The smile faded off of Kate's lips and she turned so that her upper body faced Alexis fully. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this, Alexis."

Alexis shrugged. "Dad's been famous my whole life. I'm used to it."

"Yeah, but the pictures…you shouldn't have to see that. Or be asked about it. It's not fair."

"Kate," Alexis said softly. "Despite what my dad thinks, I'm not under the impression that all you guys do is hug and kiss." Kate couldn't help it; she blushed. Alexis smiled. "And I'm totally okay with that. You make him happy. Really happy. And honestly, I really like you too."

Kate felt a warm feeling rush through her body. Castle's daughter had somehow charmed her way into Kate's heart just as far as Castle had. If she'd wondered what Alexis thought of her before, the past three weeks had left nothing to speculation; Alexis had welcomed Kate into their lives with wide open arms. It was impossible to miss the admiration in the younger Castle's eyes whenever she was around. She put her hand over Alexis's and gave it a quick squeeze. "Thanks, Lex. I like you too."

Another companionable silence enveloped them. After a while Alexis spoke again.

"Can I tell you something? And you promise you won't tell my dad?"

"Sure."

Alexis took a deep breath. "I always thought that there was nothing that my dad would give writing up for. I mean I know he would do it for me, but other than that…" She shrugged. "It's just who he is. It's a part of him." She looked at Kate, her eyes boring into the detective's in a way so very reminiscent of her father. "But I really think that if you went in there right now and asked him to give it up, he would. That's how much he cares about you."

Kate was having a really hard time figuring out how the hell she'd gotten to this place. Sitting outside of Rick Castle's apartment with a platinum blond wig shoved in her purse and having a conversation with a teenager about how much Castle liked her. It was completely and utterly ridiculous. But here she was. She knew Alexis was right. She'd seen it in Rick's eyes when he'd told her he would do anything she asked. He meant it. Anything.

"That's not what I want," she said quietly. She was playing with her mom's ring absentmindedly, twisting it in between her thumb and forefinger. "I was unfair to your dad, Alexis. None of this is his fault."

"I don't think he blames you. I think he feels bad. Dragging you into all his celebrity stuff…he didn't want that for you guys. I heard him tell Grams that earlier."

"He didn't drag me into it. All the vultures outside did."

Alexis laughed softly. "Yeah. Well I don't know how they got those pictures or why they thought they could print them. I don't understand how you can invade someone's privacy like that. All I know is that my dad won't stop pacing in his office because his girlfriend is upset."

"I'm not-"

"His girlfriend, I know," Alexis finished. She smiled. "But if Dad is going to have a girlfriend sometime in the near future, I'd really like it to be you." Kate stared at Alexis, stunned. Alexis got to her feet and then smiled down at the detective. "I've got somewhere to be." She reached forward, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. She looked at Kate pointedly. "So do you."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate pushed the door of Rick's office open to see the writer sitting behind his desk. His laptop was open and his hands were resting on the keyboard, but he wasn't typing. When she cleared her throat Rick looked up. His eyes widened at the sight of her. He stood up immediately, breathing her name like prayer.

"Kate."

She smiled faintly. "Hi."

He came around his desk rapidly, starting toward her, and then thought better of it and stopped. One of his hands rushed agitatedly through his hair. "I didn't think you'd come back," he said after a moment.

Instead of answering, Kate stepped into the office and shut the door behind her. Once it was closed, she turned back to Rick. He had the same look on his face that he'd worn when she first appeared at his door two hours ago. Alexis's words came floating back to her:_ I really think that if you went in there right now and asked him to give it up, he would_. Oh God. Surely he could hear the way her heart was thumping. If he could, he ignored it.

She'd come in with a plan. Really, she had. She had an entire speech planned, but the moment she saw him standing there everything flew out the window. Kate bit her lip, working up the courage, and then closed the distance between them swiftly and wrapped her arms around his midsection.

Her face was buried in his chest, and she inhaled the scent of him. She loved the way he smelled. She'd never smelled anything like it, and she had a feeling she never would. After a moment of stunned surprise, she felt Rick's arms close around her. His arms tightened, holding her the way she'd longed to be held all day, and then his head came down to rest his cheek against her hair.

They stood there like that for a long time. Kate couldn't remember the last time she had hugged someone without pulling away instantly. Rick called them church hugs. He said it was what you did when you saw someone you hadn't seen in a while; you leaned your front half into them and patted them on the back, then pulled away quickly. Kate wasn't really a hugger, and when she did hug, they were definitely church hugs. Not this one though. This was a real, honest to God hug, and it felt so damn _good_.

When she pulled away and looked up to see him staring down at her intently, she laughed. Just a short, bubbly laugh that made Rick frown in puzzlement. "What?"

"Nothing. I just…that wasn't my original plan."

"What was your original plan?"

She tugged on the front of his shirt, needing something to fidget with. "Well, I was going to come in here and tell you that I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I took my frustration and anger out on you. It wasn't fair."

"What's not fair is that you're splashed all over the tabloids like some starlet."

True. Very true. But still. Kate sighed. "That is unfortunate, yes. I've had a rough day." She looked up at him again. His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

Her heart melted. Melted straight to the floor into a puddle at her feet and she didn't even care. She hadn't really been mad at him in the first place, had she? She'd been mad at the situation, at the press, at Gaines and his big fat mouth, at the crazy man who killed the woman with her name…mad at everything. But not at Rick. Not really.

"It's not your fault," she told him. "That's why I came back. To tell you I'm sorry, and that it's not your fault."

"It's sort of my fault," Rick disagreed. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be the hottest new gossip."

Kate winced. She was the hottest new gossip, wasn't she? Frick. What the hell had happened to her life?

"It's still not your fault." Kate sighed and started fidgeting with his shirt again. "Rick, you have to understand a lot about my job on a daily basis. I know you don't like the danger or the sexual harassment; you proved that yesterday when you jumped in between me and Salvatore. You don't like the emotional toll it takes on me either. I know that. But you deal with it, because you know that I love my job and that it's a part of who I am."

"A big part," he agreed, reaching up to brush some hair behind her ear.

Kate met his eyes. "Well writing is a big part of who you are. And since you're so good at it, you're sort of in the spotlight. It would be terribly hypocritical of me to ask you to accept my job if I can't accept yours."

The smile that suddenly smoothed over Rick's face was priceless. There he was. Her Castle. The man who could smile even in the center of a hurricane. "That's very good of you, Kate."

"Good of me?" she repeated, a slight laugh infiltrating her voice. "Don't put me up for sainthood yet. I'm still pissed, I still want to kill them all with my bare hands, and I still can't do my job." Rick's smile faltered and she responded by tugging him closer. "But I can deal," she whispered. "I can deal if you can deal."

He smiled at that. "Oh, I can deal."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

She lifted herself up on her toes and kissed him, her hand holding the back of his head. When she pulled away, Rick was already grinning. "I have something good to tell you."

"Something good? What?"

"Well, my publicist called. She made a discovery." Kate stared at him uncomprehendingly. His smile was getting wider by the second. "It appears that one corner of the _Daily News_ cover photo was photoshopped."

"Photoshopped?"

"Yes. Which means that all those photos that were published can now be declared fake. Evidence of tampering means that those photos never happened."

"But they did happen. They happened last night in your living room."

"Well I know that. You know that. But the press? They have to go by what they know. And all they know is that my publicist can prove that the pictures were tampered with and are therefore most likely fake."

Kate felt a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "So we're…"

"Back to square one," Rick finished. "Having really hot secret sex but not going on dates because you're too embarrassed to take me out in public."

Now there was a bridge Kate wasn't ready to cross. She'd deal with his fame if she had to. She'd even deal with being labeled flavor of the week. But she wasn't ready for girlfriend status yet. Not officially. She still needed some time to get her head on straight. She stared up at Rick.

"You know that's not it."

"We're dealing though," he pointed out. "Dealing together. We're already half way there, Kate. Why can't I take you out and do it right? Why can't we just call this what it is and put a label on it?"

"Because I'm not ready for a label yet. Rick, I'm not like you, I can't just jump into things-"

Rick must've heard the panic in her voice because he conceded instantly. "Okay, okay. You're right. I'm sorry." Kate stared up at him doubtfully. Rick held up his hands in surrender. "I promise I won't ask you for a date again tonight." His eyes lit up and suddenly his pinky finger was shoved in her face. "Pinky promise."

"Pinky promise?"

"Yeah, grab my pinky."

"I'm not grabbing your pinky."

"Come on, Becks. It's how you seal the deal. Grab the pinky."

"No."

"Kaaaate. Grab my pinky." Rick giggled before she could say anything else. Kate arched an eyebrow. "It sounds dirty," he explained, still chuckling. "Grab my pinky. Haha. If someone was listening outside the door right now-"

"Oh for God's sake," Kate interrupted, rolling her eyes and turning away from Rick. Despite her words, she was grinning. "I can't get you to be serious for five freaking minutes…"

X-X-X-X-X

Unexpected, Mark thought. He knew that Kate liked Richard Castle, but he hadn't realized she liked him that much. When he'd released those pictures to the media, he'd been expecting Kate to leave the writer. After all, she wasn't cut out for celebrity. She was too private, too guarded. He'd been depending on those traits of hers, because if she ended things with Richard Castle his job would be a hell of a lot easier. But, of course, Kate never made anything easy. She was as difficult as she was complex. He loved it.

She'd stayed in her apartment for eight hours before pulling on that wig and slipping over to the writer's loft. The wig may have fooled the reporters, but not him. He could've spotted her from a mile away. It was the way she walked, with that gentle sway of the hips and those legs that seemed to go on for miles. Her shoulders were always set, always tense, her head always lifted so that her eyes faced the world, ready to take on anything life could throw at her.

Except it wasn't life that was throwing these things at her. No._ He_ was throwing them at her. First Katherine Beckett. That had been his introduction. Then the book. It was her favorite. Said a lot about her, really, that she liked Henry James. James was brilliant, but difficult. Kate was smart though. She probably didn't struggle with James like most people. He didn't expect her to get the clue, though. Not until after she found his next masterpiece.

He walked into the empty warehouse owned by Nick Croy, rubbing his hands together and thinking about Kate Beckett. After sitting in that coffee house for two hours, she'd gone back to the writer. That's when he'd known he hadn't separated them. He needed to do something grand, something to really catch her attention and let her know that he meant business. Once he had her complete attention, then he'd worry about teaching her.

_Oh, Kate Beckett,_ he thought gleefully. He was smiling like a kid at Christmas. _I'm really going to enjoy breaking you._


	6. Family Dinner

_**Thanks to Lady Brenlis for planting a wonderful plot addition in my brain :) Also, be warned, faithful readers…I'm pretty sure you're about to hate Mark. Please review.**_

The next morning Kate was in Rick's kitchen, dodging the grapes he was flinging at her head and listening to Alexis's stories about the Student Council lock-in, when her phone rang. She gave Alexis an apologetic glance and then pointed her index finger at the writer threateningly before answering her phone.

"Beckett."

"Yo. It's Esposito. We got bodies."

Kate froze. "Bodies? As in plural?"

"As in three. It's your boy again. There's a package here addressed to you. You better get over here."

Kate jotted the address down and then hung up the phone. She turned to the teenager. "Lex, I'm sorry, but we've got to go." She looked at Rick. "Three more bodies," she told him.

He stopped in mid-throw, a green grape clutched in his fingers. Her amazement at the number of bodies was matched in the expression on his face. "_Three_? Is it the same guy?"

She nodded. "He left a package for me." Her eyes found Alexis again. "Can we finish later? I'm sorry…"

Alexis laughed. "Please. Murder is much more important. Go."

Kate sent her a grateful smile, and started to pull on her coat. She watched affectionately as Rick hugged his daughter, and then laughed at herself. How ridiculous, turning into a puddle of mush because the man was a good father. It was adorable, though. And kind of hot…

"You know the press will still be outside," Rick was saying to her, standing in front of her as he pulled on his coat.

Kate snapped out of her daydream. Shit. The press. She'd completely forgotten about her new status as flavor of the week. "Oh," she said quietly. "I forgot."

"Want to put on the wig?" Rick asked. To his credit, he only said it with a slight smile. "We can go out separately. Or we can sneak out the back."

"Actually, you don't need the wig." Kate and Rick both turned to Alexis, who had wandered over to one of the windows. She was looking down at the street, still clutching her cereal bowl. She turned back to her dad and Kate. "They're gone."

"What?" Rick said in disbelief, moving across the loft to look out the window himself. He looked back at Kate as soon as he'd seen for himself. "She's right, they're gone. None of them are there."

"Well your publicist did release that statement about photoshop," Kate pointed out.

Rick shook his head. "No, that wouldn't matter. They'd still harass us for a few days, just in case they could get something. It's got to be something else…" He looked back out the window for a minute, and then Kate watched a grin break out over his face.

"What?" she demanded, making her way toward the window too.

Rick pointed outside once she was there. "Look." Kate followed the direction of his finger to see a few police cars parked along the street. There were uniforms milling around outside, and one officer was helping a handcuffed man into the back of a cruiser. "That's Dan Harrison," Castle said, nodding at the handcuffed man. "He's a reporter for the _Enquirer_."

Alexis looked at Kate. "Can you guys really arrest them for hanging around like that?"

Kate shook her head. "Not really." She grinned suddenly too. "We can arrest them for impeding an investigation, though. Which is exactly what they were doing since we're about to leave for a crime scene."

Kate and Rick shared an impish grin. He planted an impulsive kiss on her temple. "Looks like I'm not the only one with friends in high places," he murmured in her ear. Kate smiled and reached down to intertwine her fingers with his and tug him toward the door.

"Come on, Superstar. We've got work to do."

"Can we make a pit stop on the way?"

"For what?"

"I need some protein."

"We just ate breakfast."

"No, we ate fruit. Not good. I need something more substantial."

Kate smirked at him as he held the front door open for her. "Stocking up for winter, Castle?"

He matched her smirk, quirking an eyebrow at her suggestively once the door was shut and Alexis was out of earshot. "Being your secret sex slave is hard work, Detective. A man's gotta keep his strength up."

Kate laughed. "You're not my secret sex slave."

"Oh I disagree. You ravish me daily but refuse to declare our romance to the world. I'm your secret sex slave."

Kate suddenly realized they were in the hall, in public space, really, and were still holding hands. She pulled her hand from his and shoved it in her coat pocket. "Well, you caught me," she teased. "I'm only using you for the sex."

"It is good sex," Rick murmured.

"Very good sex," she agreed softly, pressing the button.

"The best ever?"

She turned her eyes to him, a smile tugging on her lips. "You really need me to say that?"

He shrugged causally, but the gleam in his eye was mischievous. They both stepped onto the elevator after the doors slid open. "You're using me for sex, Becks. Least you could do is admit that it's the best you've ever had."

"I'm not using you for sex," Kate argued, slightly offended.

Rick smiled faintly. "Well you won't let me take you out. Sometimes I wonder…"

Kate turned her body toward him, feeling defensive and wondering if he was actually bringing this up right here, right now, but Rick changed his tone instantly. Suddenly he was joking again. "You're totally using me for sex," he laughed. "Just say it. Here, just repeat after me…" He raised his voice up a few octaves. "Oh, Rick. You're so strong and handsome and you're the best lover I've ever had." He finished by batting his eyelashes at her dramatically.

Kate reached out and twisted his ear.

"Ow! Ow! Apples! Apples!" Kate released him with a smirk and he rubbed his ear, pouting. "Jeez. I was only joking."

Kate let his words linger in the elevator for a second, waiting until they were just far enough above the lobby. Then she turned to Rick, pushed him roughly backwards against the elevator wall, and swiftly pressed her body up against his. She rested her hands on his belt buckle, giving it a tug. Then, just to really be a tease, she brushed her hand downward and cupped him. His eyes fluttered closed as he exhaled heavily. Kate smiled wickedly and leaned forward close enough that her lips brushed his as she whispered.

"Best. Ever."

She trailed her tongue along his bottom lip enticingly. The elevator arrived at the lobby with a ding, and in a flash Kate was standing casually in the center of the elevator again. When the doors skimmed open she stepped off, leaving a dazed Rick Castle to stare at her ass as she strutted away.

X-X-X-X-X

It was an abandoned warehouse, exactly the kind of place that Kate would expect to find three bodies. If she expected to find three bodies, that is. In her line of work, she expected one. Maybe two. But three? Definitely not the way she wanted to start her morning.

And yet here she was, climbing out of her Crown Vic and walking toward the front of the warehouse with Castle in tow. He was probably still staring at her ass. She didn't mind.

Ryan met them at the entrance, and Kate gave him a friendly smile.

"You two have any trouble with the press this morning?" he asked innocently, his eyes set forward as he walked next to them into the warehouse.

Kate glanced at him. "No. You know anything about a couple of reporters getting arrested, Ryan?"

He shrugged. "Rumor has it they were impeding an important ongoing investigation. Captain Montgomery and Commissioner Brady didn't like their best homicide detective being harassed, I guess."

Kate looked down at her shoes and smiled. "I guess."

And that was that. Nothing else to say, really. They had her back the way she'd always had theirs. That's just how it worked.

The warehouse was one large, open-air room, and Kate spotted the crowd of cops, medical personnel and CSU guys in the far corner. As she got closer, she realized that the center of activity was a large, wooden dining table. The table was set for three, as if for dinner, and sitting in the three chairs by each place setting were three dead bodies.

Kate stopped a yard or two away from the table and stared at the scene in disgust. He'd posed the bodies as if they were all sitting at dinner together. At the head of the table was a middle aged man with slightly gray hair. To his left, a red headed middle aged woman, and to his right a young woman who looked to be late teens, early twenties.

"Who are they?" Kate asked Ryan. Esposito appeared next to Ryan, and the two detectives shared a look. Kate felt her stomach drop.

"The guy at the head of the table is Jim Rhodes," Ryan started. "The woman is Johanna Alvin." The murder scene in front of Kate started going fuzzy at the edges. Jim. Johanna. Jesus Christ. "And the girl is-"

"Kate," she finished, her own name falling from her lips in a strangled, soft tone.

"Yes," Ryan confirmed. "Drivers license on each of them."

"He wanted me to know their names," Kate said. She felt Rick come up next to her. He didn't touch her directly, just nudged her back gently to let her know he was there without making it a scene. Ryan and Esposito were too busy studying her reaction to notice what Castle was doing.

Lanie appeared in front of Kate, her eyes searching her best friend's intently. "Dr. Parish," Kate greeted stiffly. "Cause of death?"

Lanie nodded, everything except her eyes all business. She fixed them on Kate, communicating her intention for a personal debriefing later, and then started her explanation. "Each victim was killed the same way. Stabbed four times, at least once in the kidney…"

Lanie's voice melted into oblivion. Kate heard snippets of the explanation at the same time her eyes narrowed and took in the wounds of the man sitting at the head of the table. Stabbed. Stabbed the same way her mother had been. Each victim was murdered exactly the same way her mother was; location of the wound, number of wounds, probably even the weapon. It was all the same.

Kate's world went beyond fuzzy. Her vision of the crime scene started swimming, the room around her suddenly growing unbearably hot. The heat she felt couldn't prevent the shiver that raced up her spine. He _knew_. Knew about her mother, knew her name and exactly how she was killed. He knew her father's name too. Beyond that, he had tracked down three people with the same first names and had murdered them the same way her mother had been murdered. Then he'd posed them into a family portrait, a family dinner.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"Beckett?" Kate heard Lanie say her name quietly, and she shifted her eyes to the M.E. She swallowed, searching for her voice.

"That's how my mother was killed," she said softly. She watched as Lanie's eyes widened, as Ryan and Esposito shared another indefinable look. Rick stepped up next to her fully now, his chest brushing against her shoulder. He was looking at her, they all were, and Kate felt suddenly sick. Oh, God. Was she going to throw up? Who was this guy? Who could've known…?

"Detective," a CSU guy said to Kate, stepping up next to Lanie. He held out a manila envelope. "This is addressed to you. The Bomb Squad has already cleared it."

Kate took it from him wordlessly. She opened the envelope, reached in, and pulled out a prepaid cell phone. A blue post-it note was stuck to the phone, bearing the same handwriting as the other two gifts from the psycho. _Speed dial 1,_ it said. _Call me ASAP._

Kate looked up at her boys. "We can't get a trace."

"No. We wouldn't be able to get a machine fast enough," Esposito answered. "And I'm afraid to know what he'll do if you don't call him as soon as he wants."

Kate sighed. He was right. She glanced at Castle, who was watching her carefully. She needed another hug. That was for sure. She definitely had to get one later.

"See if you can record the call," Ryan advised. "Most phones have that feature."

Kate unstuck the post-it note and held it out to Esposito. She took a deep breath, pressed the number one, and then selected the option to record the call. Then she held the phone up to her ear.

It rang once. There was a click as the phone picked up, and then a sickeningly smooth voice floated over the line and into Kate's ear.

"Hello, Detective."

A shiver coursed through Kate's body, accompanied by something else. Hatred. He'd only spoken two words to her, and she hated him already. Almost hated him more than she'd hated anybody. Her mother's killer still had the top distinction.

"Who is this?" Kate asked, her voice rigid, businesslike.

The voice laughed. "You can call me Derrick Storm." Kate cast a glance at Rick. Was this all about him? Another crazed fan? "That is your favorite Richard Castle character, isn't it? Or do you have a special fondness for Nikki Heat?" Ah. So it wasn't about Castle. It was about her.

"Don't you think a fondness for Nikki Heat would be a little conceited?"

"You tell me, Detective. You're the muse."

Kate's eyes shifted to the crime scene in front of her, the three dead bodies that were linked to her in the same way the first body had been. "Did you kill these people, Derrick?"

"Yes I did."

"And the other woman? Katherine Beckett?"

"The other you? Yes. I killed her too. I killed them all, Kate. For you."

Another shiver raced over her skin. A rush of vomit sat in the back of her throat. Storm was cold, unsympathetic, obsessive. The complete definition of a psychopath. Unlucky for Kate, he'd fixated on her. Kate zeroed in on the young woman's body at the table, the woman that was supposed to be her.

"Why for me, Derrick?"

"That's a question for another time. I have a question for you, Detective."

"Okay." Jesus, she was afraid to know.

"Did you like my pictures?"

Kate's eyebrows contracted. "Pictures…?"

"Yes. The ones in the papers. The _Daily News_, the _Enquirer_, the _Post_…" It hit Kate like a baseball bat to the face. Holy shit. This guy had been watching her. Watching her enough to know that she would be in Castle's loft that night, and enough to know that they would be doing something worth taking a picture of. And as if that wasn't enough, how the frick had he gotten those pictures? The most secure apartment building in the city…

God, she wasn't safe anywhere.

"You took the pictures," Kate said slowly, trying to keep her voice steady. This guy wanted to get to her. What had he called it? _Breaking_ her. No way in hell she would be broken.

When she mentioned the pictures she saw the eyes of her entire team go wide, particularly Rick's. She ignored them. She was waiting for some type of clue from Derrick, something that could point her toward who he was.

"Sort of," Derrick answered, his voice amused. "I just set up the camera. You didn't think I was hovering outside a twenty story window, did you?"

"You know, it wouldn't surprise me," Kate said carefully. She wanted to engage him. If he was going to play with her, she was going to play back. "You must've gone through an awful lot of trouble these past few days, Derrick. Finding a woman with my exact name. Now these three people. The pictures. And my favorite book, too. Busy guy."

Derrick laughed appreciatively. "It was a bit of work, I'll admit that. But you're worth it."

"So what exactly are you playing at here? The dead bodies, the pictures…what is it that you want from me?"

"I want you to find me."

"Why?"

"You're brilliant, Kate. The best at what you do. Did you forget that?"

"No. I didn't. That's why I'm confused. I'm going to find you, Derrick. And when I do, it won't be pretty. I'll bury you."

"I look forward to the challenge. But I think by the time you find me your mind might be changed."

Kate snorted. "And why is that?"

"Call it an expert's hunch. The photoshop thing was very clever, by the way. I didn't think you'd find that little escape route."

"You photoshopped part of the pictures on purpose?" Kate asked in disbelief. God, this man was _insane_.

"Of course. There's always a way out of this game. You can forfeit anytime. You want to forfeit, Detective?"

"Not a chance."

"Wonderful. You're so stubborn. It's beautiful. Now, Kate, I want you to take a nice, long look at the family dinner in front of you." She was already looking. Her skin was crawling. "Are you looking?"

"Yes."

"Good. You want to know who died first?"

The bile pushed against Kate's throat as she started to feel lightheaded. "Sure." Her voice was cold, controlled. She sounded just as calm as he did. Inside, her heart was thumping painfully. Four dead bodies. Three of them killed the same way her mother had been. All of them with names that were directly connected to her. The memories of her mother were unbearable. The prospect of what Derrick Storm was capable of in the future made her weak in the knees.

He laughed. "Damn, you're good at what you do. Not even a waver in the voice! I'm impressed, Detective."

"Who was it?" Kate answered impassively.

He sighed. "The mother." There was a pause for effect on the other end of the line. Kate knew what was coming, but she couldn't steel herself against it. "You see, Kate, once the mother was gone, the other two were basically dead already. Without her, they were nothing. Those people aren't actually related, of course. They're merely symbols. Stand-ins for your own family. You know the story, don't you? When the mother dies, parts of the others die too. Parts of you, Kate. Dead. You're only half alive."

Kate's jaw was clenched so tight her teeth hurt. Someone who hadn't trained themselves the way Kate had might've cried. Kate, however, picked a spot on the floor in front of her, took a deep breath, and clenched her jaw even tighter. "What do you want from me?"

She could hear the smile in his voice. "I just want to play a game. See what you're made of. You better hang on tight, Kate. You're about to go for the ride of your life." There was a pause, and then the voice was softer. "I hope your boyfriend can keep up." And then the line went dead.

Kate lowered the phone and stared at it, processing. The ride of her life, huh? Jesus.

"What did he say?" Rick asked.

Kate looked up at him. She glanced at Esposito and Ryan, held Lanie's eyes for a moment, and then looked at the table with the victims. "Apparently I'm in for the ride of my life."

X-X-X-X-X

The technician at the precinct pressed the end button on the computer's speaker, cutting off the recording at the same time Derrick Storm had ended the call. Kate looked at Montgomery from the other side of the table in the conference room, her face impassive. The Captain had his fingers steepled in front of his mouth and was staring at the table. He nodded at the technician, who then disappeared from the room, leaving Kate alone with Montgomery. He'd asked to see her without the rest of her team. Kate wasn't sure why.

"Do you know who he is?" the Captain asked after a long pause.

"I have no idea."

"And nothing at all seemed familiar?"

"You mean besides the fact that he murdered three people the same way my mother was killed?" Kate snapped. She felt guilty instantly, but Montgomery didn't react. He didn't even give her the look that told her she'd overstepped. He just silently stared at the table for a while longer, and then looked up at her again.

"This is big, Beckett."

"I know, sir."

"The Mayor is on his way with Commissioner Brady."

Kate lifted her eyebrows, but she wasn't really surprised. Four bodies in two days was huge. It had been a while since New York had seen a serial killer who worked this fast, this efficiently. She couldn't remember a serial killer ever fixating on a cop the way this guy was fixating on her. Damn it.

"Is the FBI stepping in?" she asked.

Montgomery shrugged. "That's up to the Mayor and the Commissioner. Even if they do, you have to stay in charge of the investigation. Storm asked for you explicitly, and we can't risk pissing him off by handing it over to the feds. This is your case, Beckett."

Kate nodded. That's how she wanted it. That son of a bitch hadn't just killed four people, but had claimed that he was doing it all for her. He'd been watching her, had released extremely private pictures of her; she wanted to bring him down herself. And fast. Every new dead body they found was more weight added to her lack of closure. This wasn't just justice anymore, wasn't just a job; it was goddamn personal. Storm had made it that way, and he was going to pay the price for it. She'd make sure of that.

"There's one thing I have to ask you before the Mayor and the Commissioner get here." Kate waited patiently, her face smoothly serene even though she was dying of curiosity to know what it was. "Castle's publicist said the pictures in the tabloids were photoshopped. That they were fake." Kate nodded, waiting for the question. "Were they?"

And there it was. Jesus, this was awkward.

"Storm admitted they had been tampered with," she said neutrally. "You just heard him."

"That's not what I asked you. I asked you if they were fake."

Kate took a deep breath and averted her eyes. She licked her lips, buying herself some time to think. "No," she said at last. "They were tampered with, but they weren't fake."

"That's what I thought."

Kate finally looked at him. "Sir, I would really appreciate if this didn't become more than it needs to be. This thing with Castle, I mean. It doesn't affect my work, and it won't."

Montgomery met her eyes deliberately. "I know it doesn't. That's why I don't care. What you and Castle do in your free time is your business. Just keep it out of my precinct."

"Yes, sir."

Montgomery waited a beat, and then spoke again. "He's not technically an employee, you know." Kate gave him a blank look. "You only need to declare the relationship to human resources if the other person in the relationship is also an employee of the city. Castle isn't."

Kate caught what he was saying immediately. He was giving her permission to keep it to herself, to keep it private. The rest of the world thought that those photos were fake; if Montgomery had forced her to declare the relationship to human resources once he knew they weren't fake, their safety would've been gone. The truth would've leaked somehow, and the press would've been everywhere again.

Kate smiled faintly. "Thank you, sir."

Any other conversation was stopped by the opening of the conference room door. Kate and Montgomery both rose from their chairs and turned toward the door. Mayor Caldwell entered the room, tugging on his tie, and set his eyes directly on Kate. A few other men filed in after him, including Commissioner Brady.

"Detective Beckett," Caldwell said cordially. "Seems you're mighty popular these days."

Kate sighed. "Lucky me."


	7. Mr FBI

"You can't hand the investigation over to the feds," Commissioner Brady was telling Mayor Caldwell, his thick sausage fingers resting on his large hips. "This Storm guy is insane. He asks for Beckett, we gotta give him Beckett."

"It's true," Montgomery added. "The first note he ever left said Beckett had to be in charge or we'd find bodies every hour. You really want bodies every hour, Mr. Mayor?"

"No," Caldwell admitted. "But the press is all over my ass. They're calling him the Heat Killer. A gesture toward Castle's Nikki Heat."

_No shit Sherlock_, Kate felt like muttering. They'd been analyzing the case and debating who should run it and how for ten minutes now, but no one had bothered to ask for her opinion. She didn't offer it. They'd figure it out eventually. For now, she was content to just sit back and watch it all play out. Men. They all had to put their two cents in, all had to assert themselves, but the only thing it did in the end was waste time. They might as well just drop their pants now and get it over with.

Kate was the only woman in the room. That's usually how it was in her line of work. She didn't mind. She'd always been more comfortable with men anyway. Women played all those stupid games; she didn't have time for that. Then again, it was moments like these that made her wonder if men really were a better option.

"The pictures he released of Beckett and Castle didn't help matters," a weasel-looking guy piped up from the corner. His name was Jason Myers; he was the press secretary for the Mayor. Kate turned her eyes toward him, fixing him with an intense look. She watched with a little more pleasure than she should have as he squirmed beneath her gaze.

"Those were proved to be fake," Montgomery said immediately. Kate tried not to smile at his barely veiled defense of her. "Just another attempt by Storm to get to Beckett."

"What's he want anyway?" Caldwell asked. "Four bodies in two days is a pretty ostentatious statement."

"Who knows," Brady muttered angrily. "He probably-"

"You know, maybe we should ask Detective Beckett what she thinks."

All the eyes in the room turned to the man standing casually by the door, the man who had just interrupted the New York City Police Commissioner and basically called out every other man in the room for their lack of thought. His eyes were fixed on Kate. Kate stared back at him, trying to remember if he'd been introduced. Nope. She had no idea who he was.

"Beckett?" Caldwell asked, turning his eyes from the guy by the door to the detective.

Kate sighed and lifted a shoulder absently. "I don't know what he wants. I don't know who he is. All I know is I'd love to get my hands on him."

Every man in the room chuckled. Kate thought about rolling her eyes. She wondered idly why the men she was surrounded with always found her so goddamn interesting.

"Nothing seems familiar about him at all?" the unidentified man pressed. To his credit, he was extremely polite. "Nothing he's said or done or written rings a bell? Someone you might know, maybe someone you put away?"

Kate shook her head. "No. You guys heard the phone call, you read the letters. I don't know any more than you do."

Kate held the man's eyes for a moment. He was…handsome. At least six feet tall and then some, broad shouldered, dark hair buzzed close to his head. If she had to guess, she'd say FBI. He looked like a guy Will would've been friends with.

"I don't want you off the case, Detective," Caldwell said. Kate looked at him. "Aside from wanting to avoid bodies every hour, I trust you. I know you're more than capable. As if your record wasn't already stunning, Castle's glowing recommendation is more than enough for me."

Kate felt the flush rise to her cheeks, but it wasn't just embarrassment. It was anger. Seriously? Half the reason she was staying on this case was because of _Castle_? Not because she was good, the best, actually; not because the killer had fixated on her. No. It was because the famous novelist thought she was smart. God damn it.

"However, I'd like to make your job a little easier. I want you to have everything at your disposal that you need, because I don't want this son of a bitch terrorizing my city. So, I'll be allowing Agent Anderson and some of his guys to be a part of your team." Caldwell nodded at the handsome man by the door, and Kate found her eyes on him again. He smiled at her, and she found herself wondering how the hell anyone could have shoulders that broad.

Caldwell rose from his chair. "The Commissioner and I have a press conference to attend about all this. I want to be kept up to date on everything. Is that clear?"

"Absolutely," Kate agreed.

"Good. Nice to see you again, Beckett. I hope I'll see you at the table this week?"

Kate laughed. Obviously now would be the best time to ask her if she was going to drop in on the weekly poker game he shared with Rick. Jesus.

"If we catch Derrick Storm, I'll be there."

Caldwell grinned, murmured his approval, and then filed out of the room with the rest of his entourage. Brady followed, nodding at Beckett, and Montgomery went with them to see them off. That left Kate alone with Mr. FBI. Kate rose from her chair. Mr. FBI was smiling at her.

"I'm Ben Anderson," he said, holding out his hand. Kate placed her hand in his, and couldn't help but notice how big they were. About the same size as Rick's, she guessed. Rick had great hands. Especially when they were…

Ah. Totally inappropriate train of thought. _Professional work environment_, she told herself. Completely inappropriate time to think about what she was going to do to Rick tonight.

"Kate Beckett," she returned.

"I guess we're partners now," Anderson said warmly.

Kate smiled. "I already have a partner."

Oh, boy. She really hadn't meant it to come out like that. _Jesus, Kate_, she chided herself_. Way to assume he's making a pass at you._

Anderson seemed incredibly amused. "I didn't mean it like that. But fair enough. Do you have any leads at all?"

Kate opened the door to the office and made her way out into the bullpen. Anderson fell into step next to her. "Not really. The second note he left, the one inside the book, said that our next crime scene had something to do with the name Kate Croy."

"Is that someone you know?"

"It's a character from the book the note was in," Rick answered for Kate, suddenly appearing next to her as she stopped at her desk.

Kate ignored the way the two men were appraising each other and started rustling through some papers on her desk.

"Is there a reason he would've picked that book?" Anderson asked, his question directed at Kate.

"It's Becks' favorite," Rick answered for her.

Kate tried and failed to stifle a smile. For God's sake. As if he couldn't just say 'It's _her_ favorite'. Nope. Had to use the nickname. He might as well pee a circle around her to make sure his territory was marked. She was momentarily surprised she wasn't irritated. Normally the jealous reaction would've annoyed her, but Rick pulled it off beautifully. She wanted to reach out and pinch his green-tinged cheeks and then plant one on him. _Professional work environment_, she repeated in her head.

"You'll never believe what I just found," Ryan said suddenly, spinning around in his desk chair. Kate looked at him eagerly, grateful for the interruption to the testosterone fest. "That warehouse we found the bodies in? Owned by a guy named Nick Croy."

Understanding dawned on Kate rapidly, and she smacked the pen in her hand down onto her desk. "God damn it," she muttered. "_Your next crime scene is within Kate Croy_. Nick Croy…how could I not see that?"

She was pissed. Unbelievable. He'd basically given her the location. She could've caught him; could've caught him in the _act_. Frick. She had a feeling the frustration currently coursing through her veins was exactly what Storm wanted.

"There's no way we could've known," Ryan said kindly. Kate ignored him. She should've known.

"Yo, Beckett," Esposito called from across the bullpen. He hurried toward her and the rest of the team. "Guess what CSU just dropped off for us."

"Hopefully something that will make this day better," Kate sighed.

"Oh it'll make it better." Esposito grinned. He held out an evidence bag. Kate took it out of his hands.

"What is it?" she wondered, suddenly uncomfortable as Anderson leaned in from her left and Castle leaned in from her right to look at the bag.

"That is a dog collar," Esposito answered. Kate looked up at him in confusion and he nodded. "I know, right? Why would a dog collar be at the crime scene? And get this…it was taped underneath the table."

"Weird," Rick said.

Kate squinted at the tag hanging off the collar. The tag was inscribed; underneath the inscription of the name _Samuel _was an address. "Espo, that's an address."

"Yup."

She looked up at him. "Tell me you sent some uniforms to check it out."

He held his arms out. "Really, Beckett? You even have to ask?"

She grinned. "What about the name?"

"No idea. I was hoping you might have one."

"Maybe it doesn't mean anything," Rick offered. "Maybe it's just a red herring."

"Or maybe it's a clue hidden in plain sight," Anderson countered. "Maybe that's Derrick Storm's real name."

Another standoff. Holy hell. This was going to be a long day. Kate shook her head at the matching smirks on Ryan and Esposito's faces and reached for her coffee mug. She needed some caffeine. "Ryan, call down and get every file on every case I've ever worked. We're about to spend the day looking for Samuel."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate pinched the bridge of her nose. "Castle."

"Yes, Detective?"

"Is there a reason you're humming show tunes?"

"They're catchy."

"And the Skittles you're throwing at my head but pretending you're not?"

"You haven't eaten all day. I'm sending you subconscious hints. Is it working?"

Kate finally looked at him. "You throw one more Skittle at my head and I'm going to beat the shit out of you."

Rick grinned. "See, this is why you need to eat. Your blood sugar gets low and you get all grumpy." He plopped a Milky Way onto her desk. "Eat it. I know they're your favorite."

She tried really hard to be mad at him, or even just to be as irritated as she was twenty seconds ago when the tenth skittle had hit her square in the temple and he'd giggled like a little girl. But the meaningful look he was giving her from his chair next to her desk and the Milky Way calling her name made the annoyance evaporate. Well, for the most part.

She gave him a half smile and rose from her chair, reaching for her mug. "I think I'll stick with coffee just to piss you off."

He grinned up at her. "Your pettiness is astounding. Must I always be the adult in this relationship?"

Kate rolled her eyes as she walked away from him and toward the lounge. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

She could feel Rick's smile and his eyes following her into the lounge, and it brought a smile to her own lips. That's all it took, wasn't it? Thirty seconds of banter and the fact that he'd bought her favorite candy bar for her from the vending machine, and she was out of the Derrick Storm induced funk she'd been in all afternoon.

Derrick Storm. God. Everywhere she looked it was a dead end. The address on the dog tag was for an abandoned warehouse similar to the one they'd found the three bodies in that morning; this one, however, was empty. Kate had ordered two uniforms to stay behind on around the clock surveillance, just in case Storm planned to use it in the future. It was a long shot, but still.

She'd spent all day looking over old case files and incident reports with the boys, Castle, and Anderson and his team, but there was nothing. So far they'd only found two Samuels in her history as a police officer; one was an eighty year old man who'd lost his wife, and the other was the six year old son of a murdered investment banker whose mother had moved him to California. It was frustrating as hell.

Kate set her mug under the espresso machine and pressed her fingers to her temples. It was seven o'clock. Maybe they should just call it a night, start again tomorrow. As much as she hated the idea of walking away before they'd pegged a new lead, they might be better off that way. Come in with fresh eyes and a fresh perspective, maybe see something they had missed in their tiredness and frustration. Besides, she was really looking forward to curling up next to Rick in bed…

"Tired?" Kate jumped at the voice, and whipped her head around to see Anderson standing in the doorway. He smiled. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Kate smiled halfheartedly. "It's fine. And yes. Exhausted."

Anderson started toward her, also holding a mug. "He's right you know," he said, pointing over his shoulder with a thumb.

"Who? Castle?"

"Yeah. You should eat something."

Kate snorted. "Don't tell him he's right, okay? It'll be better for all of us if he didn't know."

Anderson chuckled as he stopped next to her. He folded his arms over his barrel-like chest and stared down at her. Kate busied herself with making some coffee, oblivious to his intentional, lingering stare.

"You ever get irritated that you have a permanent shadow?"

Kate shrugged, still focused on the coffee. "Castle has his moments. I had a hard time at first. But he's smart. He helps way more than you'd think."

"You guys seem pretty close."

That stopped her. She looked up at him, her fingers frozen momentarily in their work. "Yeah," she replied vaguely. "I mean we spend all day, every day together. You know how it is."

"Yeah. Of course."

Well, this was mildly awkward. Kate went back to the coffee, but she couldn't really focus on it anymore. She contemplated putting the vanilla flavoring Castle had bought for her (but claimed it was for everyone) a few months ago into her coffee, but decided not to. Then her mind went back to the way Anderson was studying her like she was a goddamn puzzle.

Anderson reached past her and picked up the pot of coffee next to the espresso machine. Rick called it 'boring' coffee, and made fun of every officer he saw using the regular coffee machine instead of his. Kate liked to tease him that he was insecure about his espresso. It pushed his buttons.

"So, Beckett, you get a lot of creepy serial killers that fixate on you?"

Kate laughed, her coffee mug half way to her lips. "Usually one a week. No big deal."

"Doesn't take long to figure them out, I suppose."

"A couple hours or so. I'm sort of a genius."

Anderson grinned at her. "Well, damn woman. You're like a bona fide superhero."

Kate took a sip of her coffee and wondered if she'd ever be able to hear the word superhero and not think of Rick Castle. Probably not. She shrugged at Anderson. "I do what I can."

He laughed as he put the coffee pot back, and then turned to face her fully. She looked at him over the rim of her coffee mug. "So what do you do when you're not saving the world?" he asked her. His tone of voice was suddenly different.

Oh, shit. He was hitting on her, wasn't he? Shit, shit, shit. How had she not seen that? She broke eye contact immediately. She was _so_ not okay with this. She was only trying to be nice. They had to work together for Christ's sake, she couldn't be rude. And now look where she was. Alone in the lounge with a ruggedly handsome FBI agent who was staring down at her like she was the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. It definitely wasn't somewhere she wanted to be. Maybe if he was Rick Castle. But he wasn't.

"Eat and sleep," she answered. "Pretty basic."

"There aren't any male superheroes in the picture?"

God he was coming on strong. "No. Not really."

"What about writers?"

Oh no, he did _not_. Kate stared up at Anderson, her mouth hanging openly slightly. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? She and Castle weren't together. They hadn't even been on a date. His publicist had just announced that morning that the pictures of them in the tabloids were fake. If she disagreed now, she'd be shooting herself in the foot. She didn't think Anderson was the type to run his mouth, but who knew. People were weird when their pride was wounded. Look at what Nick Gaines had turned out to be.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Kate evaded, turning away from him. She reached for the vanilla, just for something to do.

"I mean, are you with that Castle guy?"

"With, as in…?"

"As in are you guys together? Are you dating?"

Kate gave him what she hoped was a careless smile. "Me and Castle? We work together."

"That doesn't answer my question." Kate was silent. Anderson decided to change approaches. "Look, Kate…" Oh God, the first name. This was getting worse and worse. "I'd really like to take you to dinner sometime. Maybe tonight."

Kate shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Anderson."

"Call me Ben. And why not? You need to eat."

"That's true. But I can't eat with you."

"Because you're with Castle?"

Kate sighed and turned to face him fully. "No. I have a rule against dating people I work with."

"So it has nothing to do with the writer?"

"No. Castle and I aren't together, okay? That would never happen."

The second the words left her mouth she saw Rick over Anderson's shoulder, standing in the doorway. The look on his face cut straight through her and into her bones.

Oh, fuck.


	8. Battlefield

_**The title of this chapter is a reference to both the occurrences within the chapter and the song "Battlefield" by Jordin Sparks. A few chapters in this story will reference song titles that have lyrics I think apply to the chapter. Look up the lyrics or get yourself a copy of the song (legally, of course) if you'd like to be a little farther into the Hunted world. As always, reviews are welcomed and encouraged. **_

Kate opened the door to Rick's loft with a sigh. It was ten o'clock. Rick had left the precinct shortly after he'd overheard her conversation with Anderson, sometime around seven thirty. He didn't need to wait for her since he'd given her a key to his apartment when they'd snuck five minutes of alone time at lunch. Technically she was staying with him because of Montgomery's orders, but accepting the key had still sent a wave of panic through her system. Esposito and Ryan had appeared in time to see her stashing it in her purse. They knew it was Captain's orders, but that didn't keep them from raising their eyebrows at her suggestively. That being said, they never crossed the line. It was like having brothers; they could tease her all they wanted, but if anyone else tried they got a punch to the face. Literally.

Rick had left her. He'd left her at the precinct with the boys, but really he'd left her at the precinct with Anderson. No one had noticed anything different about him as he left, but for Kate it was like he'd been screaming it out loud. He didn't look at her, didn't find some excuse to touch her, didn't even make a joke. She didn't think it was possible to miss someone who was five feet away, but she missed him the second she saw him over Anderson's shoulder. There was always a bit of a gap between them; Kate was too guarded for there not to be. To Rick's credit, every second she spent making the gap he spent building a bridge over it. He was chasing her. He'd been chasing her since the day they'd met, and after their game three and a half weeks ago he'd picked up the pace.

After that terrible moment of eye contact over Anderson's shoulder, though, there was suddenly no bridge being built. Construction had halted. Kate stared at him from across the abyss, desperate for him to reach for her again, but he didn't. She'd hurt him. She knew it. But she could justify it. She hadn't lied to Anderson; she and Rick weren't together. Not technically. She needed time, Rick knew that. And it's not as if she'd accepted Anderson's dinner invitation. So why did she feel like she'd just stabbed Rick straight through the heart with a seven inch blade?

The door swung open to the loft. All the lights were off. Kate frowned. She crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her, her head swiveling around her as she looked for Rick. She didn't know what she had expected, but she hadn't expected the loft to be empty. She looked down and saw Rick's keys on the table in the entranceway, sitting on top of a note from Alexis that said she'd gone with a few friends to see Martha's new play. Kate wanted to see it, but it would've been a public appearance with Rick. That couldn't happen.

The keys told her he was home. She knew instantly where he would be. The same place he always was whenever he had something to think about: his office.

Kate set her key on the table by his keys, and placed her phone next to it. She slipped her gun out of its holster and put that down too, then slipped her coat off. She started to walk through the loft, draping her coat over the back of the couch as she headed toward Rick's office.

The door was shut. Light streamed under the crack in the door, and Kate paused with her hand halfway to the handle. She didn't know what to expect. She hated going into situations without knowing what to expect. She would love to blame it on her job, but she knew it had nothing to do with being a cop and everything to do with her mom's murder. There seemed to be no end to the effects of her mother's death on her; she hated it. Taking a deep, slow breath, she finally pushed open the door.

Rick was sitting behind his desk, his hands flying over the keyboard of his laptop which rested on the top of the desk. He glanced up at her and then instantly lowered his eyes again. His fingers hadn't stopped moving. Kate stood in the doorway for what seemed like forever, wondering if he would say something. He said nothing. He didn't even look at her.

Kate pursed her lips. She was a little irritated too. He couldn't say something? He was acting like a child. She didn't even know why he was upset. After another thirty seconds of nothing but the clicking of his fingers on the keyboard, Kate started across the office. When she got to his desk she reached out and shut the lid of his laptop. He moved his fingers just in time. He was still silent, now staring down at his hands. Kate moved in between him and his desk, and leaned back so she was resting on the edge of the desk, directly in front of him. Her hands grasped the wood on either side of her body.

"Rick."

He finally,_ finally_ looked up at her. "You want to know what's funny?" he asked. She stared at him expectantly. "I can't even really be mad. I mean karma is a_ bitch_, you know?"

Kate knit her eyebrows at him. "What are you talking about?"

"You," he answered instantly. "What else?" He laughed humorlessly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. "I'm usually on the other end of this. I'm usually the one avoiding the definition of the relationship. I never realized how bad it sucked from this side."

"Rick," she said more insistently. "What are you-"

"Do you like him?" he interrupted.

Kate stared at him. Oh, God. He had not just asked her that. Oh, _God_. The fury rose instantly. Kate narrowed her eyes into a glare. "_Excuse _me?"

"He might be your type," Rick continued. She knew he was lashing out, knew he was hurt and jealous and angry and that he didn't mean any of it, but she didn't care what she knew because she was so fucking _pissed_ at him. "You like the chiseled FBI guys, don't you?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she spat at him. "I told Anderson no-"

"But you didn't tell him why, did you?"

"It's none of his business."

Rick let out a sharp laugh, a laugh that was nothing like the ones she loved. It cut her the same way the expression on his face at the precinct had, the expression that was burned into her brain. "And I suppose that's the only reason you didn't tell him. You told him we weren't together, Kate."

"Because we're not!" she cried, rising to her feet automatically. "We're not together."

"And who's decision is that?" he retorted angrily. He was up and out of his chair too.

"What is this about? Are you mad because Anderson hit on me, or are you mad we're not together? Because if this is about Anderson, you're being ridiculous. I told him no."

"You told him we would never happen. Is that true, Kate? We're never going to happen?"

Kate sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. "What I said to him means nothing. I just wanted him to leave me alone."

"That doesn't answer the question. Is it true? Are we ever going to happen?"

She dropped her hand and looked at him. "You think I'd be here if we weren't? You think I'd still be sleeping with you if there wasn't a chance-"

"A chance? Shit, Kate. How much of a chance am I? What are the chances you're interested in more than sex?"

"That's not fair. You know this isn't just sex. You _know_ that."

Rick folded his arms over his chest. "Are you sure? How many dates have we been on?"

"What is it with you and dates?" she shot back hotly. "You want to show me off around town? Let the press see what you nailed?"

"Now that's not fair," Rick said angrily, thrusting his index finger at her. "I hate that the press found you. I hate that they hurt you and that you're uncomfortable. You know why? Because I want to be in a _relationship_ with you. I care about our future."

"So do I!"

"Then why do you keep avoiding it? Why do you keep putting me off?"

"I told you, I need time. I don't rush into things, Rick. I'm not you. I'm not impulsive and spontaneous, I don't just do things that pop into my head without any thought-"

"You think I haven't thought about this? About you and me? You think I don't think about it all the time? Kate, I want this. I want us, I want _you_. But I don't think you feel the same."

"Don't tell me how I feel," she warned. "You have no idea."

He snorted. "Of course I don't. Because you won't let me in. Just say it, Kate. You don't trust me."

"That's not it-"

"Say it. My reputation scares you. My celebrity status scares you. Everything about me scares you, and it's because you don't trust me."

"Fine. You want me to say it? Fine. I don't trust you, Rick. I'm afraid you'll get bored. I'm afraid you'll find somebody else, maybe even the first girl that winks at you. You think I liked having my picture taken by the same people that snap shots of Britney Spears? You think I like knowing that there's a possibility I could be just another notch in your belt?"

She stopped abruptly. She didn't know what else to say. Rick just stared at her. It was their first real fight. The other night hadn't really counted; they hadn't really raised their voices, hadn't said things they would eventually regret. But this…Jesus. This _hurt_.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked her quietly, holding out his hands in defeat. "I can't change my past, whether I'm ashamed of it or not. I can't make the press go away. I can't even make you trust me. You don't believe a word that comes out of my mouth."

Kate looked at the floor. That wasn't true. She believed him. Usually after she doubted it though. God, she really was emotionally stunted wasn't she? There was something so horrifying about it, about realizing how goddamn guarded she was. Who did she have? If Derrick Storm got to her tomorrow, who would be at her funeral? Her dad? Lanie and the boys? But who else? She'd shut everyone else out. And now she was shutting Rick out. She tried desperately to fight it, but it was so overpowering. Self preservation. Don't let anyone in, and it doesn't hurt when they leave like her mom had. She had never imagined it would hurt this bad to not let someone in. Wasn't it only supposed to hurt once they were in?

"Kate," Rick said to her, his voice soft. "I don't think this is about me. I can see it in your eyes. You want me just as much as I want you." She finally looked up at him. The look on his face knocked the wind out of her; she'd really hurt him, hadn't she? "But you won't let yourself have what you want. For some reason you think you don't deserve to be happy. You seem to think there's no way someone could possibly love you."

Love? Holy shit. Did he love her? Kate felt like she was about to hyperventilate, mostly because the horror of recognizing her guardedness had forced her to recognize something else. She might love him too. Maybe. Possibly. Oh, Jesus Christ.

"And you know what? If you keep pushing people away like this, they're going to think you don't want them around. And then what? What are you going to do when you lose someone because you couldn't admit you wanted them?"

He held her eyes for a long moment, searching for something. She didn't know what he was looking for. She knew her face was impassive. She'd gotten so good at the emotionless look over the years. Sometimes it came in handy, like at the poker table. But tonight? Tonight it was her worst enemy.

"Let me know when you want me," he whispered. The look on his face broke her heart. "If you ever do."

And then he left. He turned away from her and walked out the door and she tried to call out after him but her voice died on her lips. She heard him pick his keys up off the table, and then heard the door to the loft open and close. She was alone. She stood there motionlessly for she didn't know how long, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Last night she had walked across this office and hugged him like she'd never hugged anyone before, and tonight she'd fought with him. Half of her was indignant and furious; she hadn't done anything wrong. She'd turned Anderson down, shied away from him the second she knew his intentions. She hadn't lied; she and Castle had never discussed being in a relationship. Telling Anderson they were in one would've been a lie. It also would've set her up for another paparazzi stint, and she definitely wasn't ready for that.

But then there was the other half of her that was screaming to chase after him, to melt into his arms like she had yesterday. Why couldn't it be simpler? Why couldn't she admit that yes she was scared, yes she didn't really trust him, not totally, but she wanted to? Because she did want to. God, she wanted to so bad. She wanted to be vulnerable and raw and open and everything that you were supposed to be with someone that you cared about the way she cared about Rick. Years of experience were holding her back and she didn't know how to beat them, didn't know how to open her mouth and tell him that she was scared, but she was in. _All _in.

Kate let her eyes roam around the room and they came to rest on his laptop. She shouldn't. Really, really shouldn't. She'd be pissed if he did it to her. But then again, he was already pissed. What the hell.

She made her way toward the laptop and then lifted the lid. A Word document popped up, and Kate lowered herself into the chair Rick had been sitting in when she'd first entered the office. It was the next Nikki Heat. She didn't know anything about it; he hadn't told her. She started to read, and she felt her heart leap into her throat instantly.

_Nikki stared at Rook from across the room, feeling naked. She hated that he could do that to her. That he could look not at her, like most people, but through her. As if he knew instinctively every thought she had, every feeling she stifled. He scared her. Scared her big time. She said the only thing she could think of. _

_ "This would never work, Rook. We could never work."_

Kate tore her eyes away from the computer. He'd nailed her once again. Nikki Heat seemed pathetic to her, ridiculous. If she'd been at home in her bathtub with a glass of wine and had just read that, she was fairly certain she would've been irritated with her alter ego. How could Nikki not see how much Rook cared about her? Why did she hate that he could read her like a book, when that's secretly all she had ever wanted?

Kate pressed the lid shut and walked out of the office, through the loft, up to Rick's room. She rummaged through the side of the closet that her stuff had taken over since Montgomery had ordered her to stay with Castle. She changed rapidly into a baggy pair of soccer shorts and an NYPD sweatshirt, then pulled on her favorite pair of Asics running shoes. She trotted down the stairs, strapped her gun on via a leg holster underneath her shorts, and slipped her badge in next to it. She left her phone and the key Rick had given her on the table. She didn't pull on her coat, didn't take anything with her except her gun and her badge.

The elevator ride down to the lobby was quick. As she stepped onto the Manhattan sidewalk, she took a deep breath. Then she did what she always did whenever life got to be too much.

She ran.

X-X-X-X-X

It was a dead sprint. Kate didn't know when she'd started running this fast, but she didn't care. She was running like her shoes were on fire, like someone with superhuman speed was chasing her. It was eleven o'clock and dark outside, so the sidewalks were mostly empty. Kate tore around a corner of a block, her shoes slapping on the pavement. The steady rhythmic sound of her feet offset the thumping of her heart, and Kate listened to them both with a numb mind.

Her lungs were burning. She'd been running for a long time, and she'd been running fast. She could taste something rust flavored in the back of her throat; the taste that told her she was pushing her physical limits. She liked having at least two workouts a week that left her tasting that flavor. She liked pushing herself.

At last, it was too much. She slowed to a halt, right outside of a service alleyway on her right. Her hands found her knees and Kate hunched over, panting, her shoulders lifting and falling at a rapid pace as she tried to catch her breath. A cramp seared through her right calf, and Kate leaned her back against the wall. She started to slip down the brick, and stopped when she was sitting on the pavement with her back against the wall.

All she could hear was the sound of her panting, the roar of her heartbeat in her ears. She was an idiot. Such an idiot. What would her mother think if she saw her like this? Hunched in an alleyway after sprinting God only knew how many miles because she was scared of a man. Holy hell.

Kate tilted her head back against the brick. Scared of a man. Scared of herself, too. It was as simple as that. What a coward she was. What a pathetic coward.

Kate closed her eyes. She needed to catch her breath before she started her run back. And she still needed to catch her thoughts.

X-X-X-X-X

Mark watched Kate slip down into a crouched sitting position against the brick wall of an alleyway. It was a good thing he had his bike, or he never would've been able to keep up. He hadn't realized she could run that fast. He knew she was in shape, and he knew she liked to run. But he'd never seen her run like that before. It made him feel good about himself. Maybe he was getting to her. Maybe she was seeing what he wanted her to see, and maybe she was going to set herself free instead of making him do it for her.

He wanted to talk to her. God, she was beautiful. The sweat created a sparkling sheen over her skin in the dim lamplight of the street, and Mark imagined running his fingers over her skin. Maybe he could do more for her than set her free. Maybe he could do more than remind her of who she was and who she was supposed to be. Maybe he could be something to her. He had been once. Maybe he could be something different this time. Maybe he could save her in more ways than one.

Mark took a step toward her from his hiding place. He hesitated. She would recognize him. He didn't want her to see him yet. His game wasn't anywhere near over. But he wanted to talk to her so badly, wanted to touch her, and she was alone…


	9. Life After You

_**The title of this chapter refers to the song called "Life After You" by Daughtry. It's wonderful. Look up the lyrics if you wish. **_

Rick felt like an idiot.

Following Kate around for as long as he had been, he'd learned quite a few things about her; one of which was that she was pretty damn brave. He couldn't keep track of the number of times he'd stood, slack jawed and wide eyed, as she beat the shit out of a suspect (and somehow still looked stunning, by the way). He'd watched her tear apart guys twice her size in the interrogation room, usually after they made sexual comments to her that made _him_ blush. He'd watched her work a room with her gun drawn, more competent and skilled than anyone he'd ever seen. He'd assumed that Kate Beckett was fearless, that there was nothing she was afraid of.

He'd been so very, very wrong.

He'd seen it in her eyes so many times over the past three and a half weeks. Terror. She tried so valiantly to hide it, but she wasn't as good at hiding her emotions from him as she thought she was. There was a line, he'd discovered, when it came to Kate. A line of how far she let people in. That night when he'd kissed her in his kitchen after a night of verbal foreplay that made his head spin, he'd crossed the line. And promptly come to another one.

He crossed the next one on his leather couch that same night. He was captivated by her, absolutely _enthralled_, and if he hadn't known exactly what it was like to be in the wrong relationship, he never would've known how frickin' right it was to be with Kate Beckett. He'd looked down at her, paused long enough for her to look up at him, and then he'd said it. _You're beautiful_. He meant it more than he had meant anything he'd ever said to any other woman. Something stirred in her eyes, something goddamn extraordinary, and he'd crossed the line again.

Lines had been popping up ever since he'd crossed the first one. He'd always known she was guarded, but holy shit. It was like her heart was fucking Fort Knox. Kate wasn't fearless. He'd found that out very quickly. She was terrified of trusting people, terrified of letting them in, terrified of letting herself feel something. He had a feeling it was learned self preservation. Maybe even had something to do with her mother. When you went through something like what Kate had gone through, something that painful and life shattering, you couldn't help but be changed. He had a feeling that's when Kate had changed into someone guarded and distrustful; she was afraid to feel that kind of pain again. He didn't blame her. Maybe he would've been the same way if their situations were reversed.

The first time she'd sidestepped him, they'd been standing in his bathroom. He'd known then, without a shadow of a doubt, that he wanted Kate Beckett in one of his shirts every morning, maybe for the rest of his life. He'd said it to her. Told her he wanted to date her. Implied that he wanted to love her. Because he did. He'd seen the fear seep into her eyes. Watched it take over everything that she was. She'd asked for time. He'd been totally willing to give it to her. He'd be the most patient man on the planet if it meant that someday the extraordinary KB would let him in all the way.

Time went by. She let him, inches at a time, but it was still progress. They'd even made it through a media firestorm. And then Mr. FBI had waltzed in with his muscles and his perfect white teeth and his suit tailored like he was about to be on the cover of goddamn GQ. Rick was jealous. Jealous as hell. He didn't really have a reason to be. Kate was going home with him that night, he knew it. But for some reason, it bubbled under the surface all day. Kate wasn't his. She wasn't his girlfriend. They weren't even dating. Sleeping together, yes. But really, what did that even mean? She owed him nothing. Nothing tied them together. Nothing was stopping her from going out with ridiculously chiseled Mr. FBI.

But he was being patient. Being what she needed. Giving her time because she was worth it. He'd repeated it to himself all day, like some sort of sick mantra. Good things come to those who wait. Patience is a virtue.

And then he'd seen it. Kate cornered in the break room with FBI man. Standing kind of close to FBI man. Smiling at FBI man. Not the smile she reserved only for him (because yes, she had different smiles and yes he knew all of them), but still. He'd made his way toward the lounge. Maybe she was uncomfortable; maybe he could pull her out of an awkward situation. Then he'd heard it. _I'd really like to take you to dinner sometime. _

He'd eavesdropped on the conversation helplessly. He froze halfway into the lounge when her final words floated to his ears and stabbed him straight through the chest. _Castle and I aren't together, okay? That would never happen._

The rest of the night was a blur. Blind rage and jealousy. Leaving the precinct in a huff. Fighting with Kate in his office. He'd walked out on her. What an idiot. She'd turned down the dinner invitation. And of course she hadn't said they were together; she'd just made it out of the last media frenzy. People were leaving them alone because the photos were supposedly fake, things were floating back to how they had been. Why would she risk ruining it? Why would she tell a man she'd just met that she was in a relationship that she wasn't in?

It all made sense to him now, now that he'd spent an hour playing Pac-Man in the arcade down the block. All this time he'd been putting all this effort into being patient, into being exactly what Kate needed, and one dinner invitation from a muscle man and he was acting like a jealous teenager.

Moron.

He practically ran back to the loft, needing to see her face and hear her voice and tell her that he was sorry he'd pushed her into something she wasn't ready for. He would wait. Wait for forever if he needed to. He didn't need a label or a title and he didn't need the whole world to know. As long as she fell asleep in his arms at night and knew that he thought she was extraordinary, that was enough for him.

He called her name as soon as he entered the loft.

"Kate?"

No response. He didn't see her. He went to his office. It was empty. Rick frowned and glanced out into the living room and the kitchen again. She wasn't there. He made his way upstairs to his bedroom, calling her name again. She wasn't there either. He stopped in the center of his room, his eyes unintentionally resting on her side of the bed. Where was she?

He made his way down the hall, knocked on Alexis's door. She was back from the play, though Martha had probably stayed out to celebrate.

"Hey Dad," Alexis said, peeking at him from around a book. _That's my girl_, he thought. _Reading a book while the rest of her classmates are out making stupid decisions. _

"Hey Pumpkin. Have you seen Kate?"

Alexis shook her head. "No. She wasn't here when I got back."

Something started tugging on Rick's heart, a feeling of dread. Part of the tug was his worry that he'd pushed her too far and she wouldn't come back. But most of it…most of it had to do with the fact that he didn't know where Kate was and there was a serial killer obsessed with her on the loose.

Rick smiled at his daughter and then closed the door calmly. She didn't need to worry. The second the door was closed he took off downstairs, skipping steps, and came to a screeching halt in the foyer. He saw her coat on the couch for the first time. Her coat was here, but she wasn't. Where was she?

He reached for his phone, hit the speed dial number that was reserved her. He heard the ring in his ear, and then he heard the ring from inside the apartment. He whipped around to see her phone sitting on the table by the door, vibrating and ringing. He hung up. Kate never went anywhere without her phone. He spotted the key he'd given her sitting there too.

The something that was tugging at his heart started yanking violently.

X-X-X-X-X

It happened when she was on the corner of Rick's block. It swept over her suddenly, inexplicably. The feeling that she was being watched.

Kate's hand went for her gun instantly. She swiveled so that her back was against the building on her right, set her feet apart with one foot in front of the other. Her head rotated slowly but not too slow, taking in her surroundings. Waiting to see if anything or anyone out of the ordinary appeared. Derrick Storm had been in the back of her mind all night; the dead bodies, the letters, his incredibly chilling voice that sounded more and more familiar the more times she replayed the tape of their phone conversation…it wasn't something she could forget. Even with everything that was going on with Rick.

But there was nothing. No one. Hardly anybody on the street, and those that were hadn't even looked at her. Kate stayed for a moment longer, doing one more sweep with her eyes, and then hurried into the building. She suddenly wanted to be off the streets and out of the dark as soon as possible.

The elevator ride back up was nothing like the elevator ride on the way down. This time it was agonizingly slow, almost physically painful. She'd left her key on the table, so she would have to count on the fact that he would let her back in. He would let her back in, wouldn't he? He wouldn't just walk away from her after one fight.

Would he?

The doors opened and Kate stepped off the elevator, pacing toward the loft door with quick, competent steps. It was her detective walk. Detective Beckett had seeped into Kate downstairs on the sidewalk when she'd felt the goose bump rush of someone watching her. She had a sudden, terrible realization that with every new body, every new contact with Derrick Storm, the worlds of Kate and Detective Beckett were coming closer and closer. They were set on a collision course, a course that couldn't be stopped unless she found him.

In the meantime her heart was on a collision course with her brain, and the resulting explosion would either leave her deliriously happy or even more guarded than she had been before. She lifted her hand to knock on the door, but she didn't get the chance. The door swung open before she could knock on it, and revealed a very flustered looking Rick Castle.

"Kate," he breathed. Kate frowned. She couldn't read the look on his face. Before she could study it farther, he swept her into a hug, squeezing so tight she could barely breathe. "Thank God," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Okay, now she was really confused.

"What's going on?" she asked, shrugging out of his arms.

"Where were you?" he countered. "I thought something had happened-"

"I went for a run-"

"In the middle of the night? When there's a psycho serial killer after you?"

Kate gave him an incredulous look. "It's not even midnight yet. I had my gun."

"But still, I-"

Kate clamped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. He held her eyes over her hand, his eyebrows knit in thought, and Kate stared at him for a long moment before she spoke. "Why are you acting like my dad right now?"

She lowered her hand. "I'm not acting like your dad," he answered slowly. "I'm acting like your…well, I was worried…"

"You're acting like I just came back an hour late for curfew. Do I have a curfew, Castle?"

Rick looked confused and worried at the same time. It was because she'd used her boss-lady voice. Kate kept her eyebrows arched severely for a moment, and then broke out into a sly grin like the ones he usually wore. "I'm kidding."

The wrinkles in his forehead smoothed. "Oh. I was worried."

Their argument came back to her. Everything came back to her. She stepped away from him. "You left," she said quietly. "I needed to think. I went for a run."

"Derrick Storm is out there," Rick told her. "You put yourself in danger."

Kate brushed past him and into the loft. "I'm a big girl, Rick. And I'm a cop. I can take care of myself."

She heard him shut the door behind her. "Of course you can. But that doesn't mean you can't let other people take care of you too."

Kate felt another fight coming on. Whether there actually was one coming or not she didn't know, but she didn't want to find out. She turned to look at him. "I don't want to fight."

He stood in front of the door, his hands in his pockets, staring at her. She suddenly felt like Nikki Heat in the passage she'd read on his laptop; Rook could see straight through Nikki, and Castle could see straight through her. It was more than a little unnerving. Most men couldn't even see her, see who she really was, let alone see _through_ her. Rick though…God damn. Straight through her like she was transparent. That's why she was so scared.

"Neither do I," he murmured. "That's why I need to apologize."

She stared at him, stunned. _He_ needed to apologize? He was too good. Much too good for her. He walked toward her, opened his mouth to continue, but she interrupted him before he could.

"No. Don't. Please."

He stopped. Kate pressed her lips together, trying to think of what she'd planned to say when she'd been sitting against that brick wall. She swallowed, more like gulped, and then dove right in.

"I run when I can't think," she started. God that sounded dumb. "I mean when I need to clear my head, when I really need to think about something, I go for a run. So after you left, I put on my shoes and I went for a run."

He tilted his head. "Did it work? Did you clear your head?" Kate nodded, looking down at her feet. "And?"

She sighed. "And…you were right." She looked up at him, terrified but wanting to look straight into his eyes when she said it. "I'm scared. I don't trust you. I'm holding myself back. I'm a coward. A selfish coward." Rick opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head. "Don't. Just let me get it out, okay?"

Rick closed his mouth and waited. Kate took another deep breath. "I want you, Rick. I'm scared to death, but…I'm all in. I'm betting on you, on us. And I am_ all_ in." She bit her lip. "And I'm hoping that you're all in too. Because if not, then this is really awkward…"

He laughed, probably at her defense mechanism joke that was really more of his thing than hers. It was such a magnificent sound. A thrill raced through her, because it was the laugh she knew, the laugh she loved. She felt the smile tugging on her lips unconsciously. Rick closed the distance between them, sliding his arms around her waist.

"I've been all in for a while now, love."

_Love_. God this felt so good. She smiled up at him. "I have something to tell you. A favor to ask, really."

His eyebrows lifted. "Does it pertain to the bedroom?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you would go there. Of course."

"Name it," he said next, grinning. So she did.

"I want to call my dad."

The confusion settled in a cloud over his usually clear blue eyes. "Your dad?"

"Yeah. I want to ask him to have dinner with me tomorrow night. And with you. Here, maybe. And I want…" she choked on the words. The fear still pulsated faintly in her veins, but there was something stronger there now too, something that made her smile. "I want to introduce you as my boyfriend."

X-X-X-X-X

Roses. Mark would've rather brought them in a bouquet to Kate, but instead he had to rip the petals off and scatter them over the body. He picked them off one by one. _She loves him. She loves him not. She loves him. She loves him not. _

_And if she does love him_, he thought, _then I'll make her stop. _She had to stop. She would stop loving him, because he would save her.

He had to save her.

X-X-X-X-X

It started the same way it always did. With laughter. It ended much differently.

Rick Castle had brought laughter into Kate Beckett's life. Every aspect of it. Her work, her play, her life as Kate and her life as Detective Beckett. He'd brought it into everything, and that included her bedroom.

But that night after she told him she was all in, there was no laughter in the bedroom. It started out there. They'd laughed as he lowered himself on top of her on his bed, laughed about something she'd said in response to something he'd said. Their banter was a demonstration of affection, a game of wit, foreplay. But when he met her eyes, the laughter still resting on each of their lips, something changed.

Kate couldn't define it. Not even if she wanted to. She wondered if he, Mr. Bestseller, would've been able to. She had a feeling he wouldn't, because the shade of emotion in his eyes was the same thing lingering in every breath she took. She was serious, raw. Open in a way she had never been, not just with him but ever. He kissed her and she knew something had changed. Knew _they_ had changed. Whatever it was, it made the strings of her heart twist and wrap around the part of her that Castle had claimed as his at some moment she couldn't pinpoint. She really was in. _All _in.

It was different than any other time they'd made love before. It was slow, gentle, almost unbearably sweet. Rick's hands on her were different too, touching her as if she was something fragile that could break if he handled her too roughly. Kate's mind was a blur, everything completely fuzzy except for the undeniably clear movements and words of the man holding her. She felt every beat of her heart completely, felt it sending something powerful roaring through her veins. His mouth by her ear, whispering how beautiful she was, how much she meant to him, was nearly more than she could stand. She lost herself, lost herself entirely in him, and when she fell asleep hours later curled into his side, she felt safer than she ever had before.

X-X-X-X-X

Mark let the last rose petal fall, then stepped back to survey his work. The stem of the last rose was still in his hand, and after staring at his masterpiece for a while he looked down at the stem. The thorns jutted out of the green, and Mark ran his fingertip over one thorn gently. Then harder. Then harder.

His skin broke and blood spilled out, encasing his finger in crimson. Beautiful flower, painful thorns. The ancient poets had it right when they compared roses to love. One minute it was beautiful, the next incredibly painful. He hoped Kate had enjoyed the beautiful part.

Because it was about to become incredibly painful.


	10. Flowers For Your Grave

"If I forget that you're actually my girlfriend now can we sneak into evidence lock-up and have a quickie?"

"No."

"What if I'm overcome by sudden and uncontrollable jealousy over Mr. FBI staring at your ass? Can you comfort me physically in the bathroom?"

"No."

"What if-"

"_Castle_," Kate interrupted, turning to face him. They were alone in the elevator at the precinct, on the way up to her floor. Rick had been going all morning, teasing her about how she owed him "girlfriend perks" now. He was joking, of course. If he'd been serious she would've just kicked him in the crotch and solved the problem. But since she knew he was kidding and she secretly liked his obnoxious, inappropriate and immature sense of humor, she was going to keep her feet to herself. That and she kind of liked his crotch. Kind of liked it a lot.

"Yes, love?"

Had he just batted his eyelashes at her? Jesus. "We've had this conversation four times now. The change in our relationship status stays between you and me. Nothing changes at work and nobody else knows. Not yet."

"Alexis knows. And Mother."

"They don't count."

"Kate-"

"Where are we, Castle?"

He looked confused. "Uh…the elevator at the precinct?"

"Right. And what do you call me at the precinct?"

"Beckett," he muttered, suddenly looking like a kicked puppy. "Or Detective. Or Becks. Never Kate, or love, or anything that even remotely suggests I've seen you naked."

Kate smiled. "Good boy."

The elevator doors slid open and Kate stepped off, still smiling. She sipped her coffee as Rick matched his stride to hers. "Hey Becks?"

"Yes, Castle?"

"You still like me right?"

Oh hell. Why'd he have to be all cute and sad? What did he want her to do, lay one on him in front of everyone? Maybe she'd been too cold, too businesslike. Kate sighed. She stopped at her desk and turned to look at him, letting her body lean forward and closer to his than she normally would've. "Rick," she whispered. His eyes lit up like the Times Square New Year's Eve ball when she said his first name. "I'm your girlfriend, okay? Just not here. When I'm here, I have to be Detective Beckett."

He nodded. "Okay. And after dinner with your dad tonight...?"

"After dinner with my dad you will get girlfriend perks that will blow your mind. But right now, I've got a serial killer to nail."

"Have I mentioned how hot it is that you're a cop?"

The eye roll was automatic, but so was the warm feeling that spread through her body instantly. She wanted to kiss him. Wanted to kiss him really, really bad. And if they hadn't been in the middle of her workplace, she might've done more than kiss him, she might've stolen his virtue too. As if he even had any left after their little adventure in the shower this morning. They seemed to have a thing for showers. God, it was like they were on their frickin' honeymoon.

"You two having a staring contest or something?"

Kate stepped away from Castle and turned her eyes to Esposito, who was grinning at her with his hands shoved smugly in his pockets. Ryan was standing next to him, smirking. Kate narrowed her eyes and glared at them.

"Would this be the time to mention that you guys have Xbox sleepovers?"

"You do _what_?" Castle said from next to her, turning to grin at Kate's boys. The smirks dropped straight off their faces.

"That was below the belt, Beckett."

"You started it."

"Hey, you two are the ones having eye sex in the middle of the precinct."

Kate's free hand darted out and twisted Esposito's right nipple violently, eliciting a loud howl from Esposito and surprised yelps from both Ryan and Castle. Esposito was cradling his chest and glaring at a wickedly grinning Kate when Montgomery shouted across the bullpen.

"Beckett!"

Kate's eyes widened and she whipped her head around to look at her boss. Had he just seen that? Oh, God. Esposito snickered like a child until he heard what Montgomery said next.

"Derrick Storm just called my office phone. He's asking for you. Get your ass in here."

The atmosphere changed faster than Kate could blink. She set her coffee down on her desk and sprinted toward Montgomery's office, her boys hot on her heels. Anderson suddenly appeared next to her as she passed through the doorway of the office.

"Where did you come from?" she said, looking at the agent.

"I was getting coffee. Is there a recording device on this phone?"

"Already activated it," Montgomery replied. "Answer the phone on speaker, Beckett."

Kate took a deep breath, and then she did. "Derrick," she greeted. Her voice was perfect; calm, assertive, controlled. Anderson and Montgomery had impressed looks on their faces. Her boys looked curious, but Rick looked downright nervous. Protective instincts, she guessed, because his right hand was curled into an unconscious fist. God, she liked him.

"Good morning, Detective. I trust you had a good night?"

Kate flicked her eyes to Rick unconsciously. Damn it. "I had a fantastic night. How was your night?"

"Wonderful. I got blood on my favorite shirt though."

The silence was deafening. Kate held Montgomery's eyes over the desk as she made her reply. "Does that mean you left another dead body for me, Derrick?"

"Yes, I did. All for you, Kate. Don't forget that."

A helpless shiver raced up her spine. Kate longed to be somewhere else, maybe even someone else, if only just for a moment. There were times, times like this, when she really hated her job. Times when she felt helpless, out of control, useless. Another dead body. That brought the total count to five. Five people, all killed for her. She could taste the guilt in the back of her throat. It wasn't her fault. The men around her could've said that until they were blue in the face, but it wouldn't matter. She wouldn't be able to get the heavy weight sitting on her heart off until she caught this son of a bitch.

"Are you ready to tell me why yet?" she asked.

Derrick chuckled. "In due time, my dear. Patience is a virtue. Just know I'm trying to help you. Save you."

"Save me from what, Derrick?"

"From the poison seeping into your life." Kate picked up the subtle change in his voice. He sounded furious, violent. She ran over his words in her mind. Poison? What the hell was he talking about? "But now I've said too much." His voice was friendly again. "You'll figure it out eventually. You'll see the truth. But for now…is Agent Anderson there with you?"

Kate glanced at the FBI agent, who was leaning toward the phone eagerly. "Yes," she answered. "How did you know?"

"I know a lot of things, Kate. Agent Anderson. You're there?"

"Yes," Anderson acknowledged.

"Good. I want you to listen very, very carefully. Kate Beckett is to remain in control of this investigation. Do you understand?"

"You've killed a lot of people, Derrick. I have to follow protocol."

"Fuck protocol." Kate kept her eyes fixed on Anderson. He was too well trained to react expressively, but she caught a glimpse of the tightening in his jaw. "You feds think you're so damn good, but none of you realize that she's way out of your league. You're not even playing in the same park."

Kate found her eyes staring at the phone. This man was insane. One minute he was releasing pictures of her in a compromising position to the press, trying to break her with comments about her mother he knew would get to her; the next minute he was defending her honor to a federal agent and talking about how brilliant she was.

"You keep Detective Beckett in charge, or I start killing two people a day," Storm continued. "You want that blood on your hands, Agent?"

Anderson looked up at Kate. "No."

"Good. Neither does Kate. She's perfectly capable, Agent. This game was designed for her. You would fail where she will succeed. And believe me; I'll know if she isn't in charge."

Kate couldn't take it anymore; she hated being talked about as if she wasn't standing right there. Drove her nuts. As if she didn't hate this guy enough already. "Derrick," she called. "You want to tell me where the body is? I can't play the game if I don't know."

The change in his tone was once again unmistakable. He had definitely fixated on her. "I believe someone from your team picked up a dog collar from the family dinner?"

Kate looked at Esposito. "Yes."

"The address is on the nametag. She's there." Kate made a motion to Esposito and Ryan and they bolted quietly for the door to head to the scene. Kate pressed her palms on Montgomery's desk and leaned over the speaker phone.

"Tell me what you want, Derrick. This can all stop if you'll just tell me what you want."

"Oh it can't stop now," Storm said gravely. "Unless you want to forfeit. You want to forfeit, Detective?"

"No."

"Fantastic. Enjoy your crime scene, Kate. That scene was the beginning of the end. I'll be in touch."

The line went dead. Kate stared at the phone for a second longer, and then looked up at Anderson. "We've got to get to that scene."

X-X-X-X-X

The déjà vu was unreal. Kate was standing in the warehouse located at the address listed on the dog tag, staring at her next dead body.  
It was a perfect reproduction of the crime scene that had led to her first ever meeting with Castle. It was a woman, probably early twenties. Two shots to the chest with a small caliber gun and covered with roses. Identical. There was no way it was a coincidence.

"This is a crime scene from one of your novels?" Anderson asked Castle.

"_Flowers for Your Grave_," Rick answered.

"Does it tie into anything Storm has done so far?"

"It's not about the book," Kate interjected before Rick could answer. "It's about me. Me and Castle."

Anderson looked at her. "How do you know?"

"This was the first murder Castle ever consulted on. Storm said on the phone it was the beginning of the end…I think he's talking about the beginning of mine and Castle's relationship. The end of what, I don't know."

"Could be a coincidence."

"No. He's mentioned Castle before. Look what he makes me call him; Derrick Storm. He knows that's my favorite character of Castle's. Who did he photoshop pictures of me with? Castle." Kate sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked at Rick. "I don't think Derrick Storm likes you very much."

"Me?" Rick asked. "What did I do?"

"Oh there are _so_ many ways to answer that question," Lanie piped up from next to the body. She smirked at Rick, who grinned appreciatively.

Anderson kept his eyes on Kate. "Maybe he's jealous."

Kate's eyes narrowed as the members of her team grew suddenly quiet and interested in anything except Kate and Anderson. "Jealous of what?" she said in a dangerously low voice.

Anderson shrugged. "Who knows. The guy's fixated on you, Beckett. You heard how his voice changed when he talked to me versus when he talked to you. He's obsessed. Maybe he thinks that Castle is keeping you guys apart."

"That doesn't explain how he knows all that stuff about her though," Ryan added. "I mean that's just creepy."

"You got any ex-boyfriends that would do something like this?" Anderson asked.

Kate wanted to punch him. "Not that it's any of your business, but no. I don't."

"I'm just asking for the case," Anderson said with a shrug.

Kate eyed him for a moment, and then something dawned on her. "Wait a minute. Didn't I assign a continuous watch on this building after we found that collar?" Esposito and Ryan both nodded at her, and she could read the sudden apprehension in their eyes. Kate felt the fury travel through her in waves. "Where are they?" she growled.

"Who?" Anderson asked.

"The uniforms I assigned." Was he trying to be a moron? "Where are they?"

Ryan pointed to a corner of the warehouse, where two uniforms stood staring awkwardly at the crime scene. Kate strode toward them, her heels tapping against the concrete floor. The uniforms saw her coming and shared a look of dread. She was barely within earshot when she started.

"What the hell were you doing last night?" she demanded. "A psychopathic serial killer got in here with a _body_, set up an elaborate crime scene…tell me you saw something. Anything."

Neither of them looked at her. "No, ma'am," one of them muttered.

Kate could usually control her temper. Honest to God she could. But this…this was inexcusable. They had one job, that was it. All they had to do was keep an eye on the warehouse. If they'd done their jobs, she could've been interrogating that son of a bitch right now instead of standing in a warehouse staring at her fifth body.

"Nothing?" she snarled. "_Nothing_? Are you kidding me? Do you realize you had the opportunity to stop a killing spree? Do you realize what you've done by not doing anything?"

They said nothing. God, she was pissed. She couldn't even look at them anymore. She turned and stalked away from them, fuming. If there was one thing she hated, it was incompetence. She'd worked her ass off to bring people the closure they deserved, and then there was this stupidity that kept her from saving another family some grief. God damn it.

Something slowed her livid strides back toward the body. Derrick Storm knew her, knew her well. She didn't know how, but he did. Was there a chance he'd done this on purpose? He'd given her the location. He had to know she would assign someone to watch it, and yet he'd snuck in and planted the body anyway. Jesus. He was goading her, wasn't he? He was getting bold because he knew it would piss her off. And it was working. She was pissed as hell.

"Beckett," Esposito called. She looked up. He waved something at her, something that looked like an iPod. Kate made her way toward him.

"What is it?"

"An iPod. It was in the vic's hand. I think you better listen to what's playing. There's only one album on there."

Kate reached for the earphones he was holding out and shoved them into her ears. The music and lyrics of "Under the Sea" from _The Little Mermaid_ played in her ears. She looked at Esposito, her eyes wide. "It's kids singing."

Esposito nodded. She couldn't ignore the look on his face, the solemn look of sickened horror. He handed her a CD case next. "This was nearby."

Kate looked down at it and felt her knees buckle. The front cover of the CD had a picture of twenty or so smiling children. The purple letters above the picture read _Stratton Elementary Children's Choir_. Stratton Elementary was the most illustrious elementary school in New York City, a private school that cost about as much a year as Kate's entire college education. Kate felt her heart leap into her throat.

"Oh my God," she murmured. "He's going after a kid." She shared a split second look of shock with Esposito, and then she sprang into action.

"Get to the school now," she commanded. "Call for backup on the way. Take Ryan with you, lock down the whole school when you get there. I'll meet you there." Esposito and Ryan sprinted out of the warehouse as Kate turned to Anderson. "I need your guys to start calling parents. Someone needs to call the principal, tell them the cops and the feds will be there in ten minutes."

"I'm on it," Anderson said, already lifting his phone to his ear.

Kate reached for her phone; she had to call Montgomery. She was pressing her phone to her ear when she felt Rick's hand close around her free hand and give it a brief squeeze. He dropped it soon after, and she looked at him. She didn't even try to hide the look she knew was on her face. He took it in, a similar one on his own.

"You'll get him," he murmured.

She shook her head. "I haven't yet."

"You'll get him," Rick insisted.

Montgomery answered and Kate started explaining the situation. She kept her eyes on Rick, so she noticed when his eyebrows furrowed and he reached for the CD case still in her hand. She watched as he lifted it up. Something in his expression changed. He looked up at her, and then turned the CD case around to the back so she could see what he'd been looking at. Kate stared at it.

Scrawled in sharpie on the back of the case were five words:

_What would Nikki Heat do?_


	11. I Loved Her First

_**The title of this chapter refers to the song "I Loved Her First" by Heartland. It's a daddy-daughter song, which is very appropriate for this chapter. Give it a listen; it's cute. As a side note, most of this chapter is a little more emotional than the last few…not total fluff, but a change of pace. At least for a bit. Let me know what you think, please. **_

There was nothing at the school.

All of the kids were accounted for and safe. Their parents had been notified. Cops and agents were patrolling the school at all hours, cops and agents that Kate had handpicked and then personally threatened with job loss and violent death if they screwed up. By four o'clock that afternoon, there was nothing to do. They had to wait for some tests to come back from the crime scene, had to wait for Lanie's autopsy of the body. The newest victim's family had been notified, and there was nothing left. No clues, no leads, nothing. Not even any paperwork, because there was nothing to write down. They had nothing to go on.

Nothing. Kate hated that word.

She left the precinct by four thirty, mostly because Montgomery ordered her to. Apparently she looked like death, and he was going to put her on desk duty for an inordinate amount of time if she didn't go home and rest. Silver lining of it all was that she'd have more than enough time to get ready for her and Rick's dinner with her father.

God. That was an entirely separate issue. As if Derrick Storm wasn't enough, the planned dinner with her father had been in the back of her mind all day. She didn't regret calling him and asking him to come, and she didn't regret telling Rick she wanted to introduce him as her boyfriend. He was. They'd decided that last night, when she told him she was all in and then spent the night shivering and breathless because God almighty she'd never had sex like that before in her life.

And yet despite her lack of regret, she was nervous. She and her dad weren't exactly the picture perfect father-daughter relationship. Sure, they got along. They talked. Usually about her mother, sometimes about the effects of losing her. It wasn't like they hated each other…they just weren't very close. Certainly nothing like Rick and Alexis. She'd be lying if she said that the fact Rick was an incredible father wasn't extremely attractive. Sometimes she looked at him and Alexis and saw what she would've loved to have with her father; the laughter, the closeness, the openness and trust to share everything and anything. She had a feeling there was too much baggage, too many scars for them to ever be like that, but dinner was a step in the right direction. Her dad had been surprised, albeit pleasantly, when she'd invited him over. That had comforted her for half a second, and then the questions had set in.

What if he didn't like Rick? What if Rick didn't like him? What if her mom came up? Her mind had been running continuously through those questions and a dozen others all day, and by the time she was putting on some mascara in the mirror of Rick's bathroom her shoulders were in such a knot and her head was pounding so hard she was contemplating canceling just so she could crawl into bed and sleep her life away.

She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Rick leaning in the doorway. He looked handsome; black pants, her favorite light blue button up shirt. She hadn't even asked him to wear it. His smile made her blush, and she didn't know why.

"What?" she asked him self-consciously.

He lifted a shoulder. "Nothing. You're beautiful."

She snorted and turned back to the mirror, swiping the finishing touches of her mascara on. "You should get out more, Castle."

He moved across the bathroom fluidly and had his arms around her waist from behind in a second. "I've been out. You're beautiful."

She leaned her head back against his chest and closed her eyes. This was what she really needed. Someone to hold her. She felt the tension slide out of her slowly. She probably never would've admitted it out loud, but there was something about letting someone take care of her; something about exhaling physically and mentally and having someone to sink into. Such a relief. So…right.

She felt Rick plant a kiss on her shoulder. "Can I ask you something, love?"

She opened her eyes. "You just did."

"Something else?"

"Shoot."

"You ever introduced anyone to your dad before?"

Kate stared at him in the mirror and noticed the look in his eyes for the first time, the stiffness in the way he was holding her. Wow. He was actually _nervous_. Richard Castle. Nervous to meet the parents. Well, parent. If she hadn't thought it was so cute she might've mocked him for it.

She spun around in his arms to look at him, her hands snaking up around his neck. "You're not nervous, are you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"No."

She laughed. "Rick. Are you nervous?"

"Maybe."

"You? Suave, world famous Richard Castle? Scared of my dad?"

He smiled, but only for a second. His expression changed rapidly into the same look he'd had in his eyes the night before when he'd made her entire world go blurry. He trailed his fingertips over her face, the same way someone would've touched something fragile. "You know, I've met a lot of people in my life. Famous people, rich people, powerful people. But I've never been this nervous before."

She knew why. But she wanted to hear it. God, he turned her into such a girl. "And why is that, kitten?"

He smiled again, and her heart did an unbelievable flip inside her chest. "Because I don't think someone has ever been as important to me as you are. Alexis excluded, of course."

She didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. She just pulled his lips down to hers and kissed him. Then she whispered something in his ear that she never thought she'd ever say.

"You're the only one who's ever been worth introducing."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate swung the door open to see Jim Beckett on the other side, looking as nervous as she felt. Kate hadn't lied; he'd never met one of her boyfriends, and the last time they'd talked about her personal life had been…wow. When was it?

He smiled at her, shifting his weight from foot to foot absently. "Hi Katie."

"Hey Dad."

Kate opened the door wider and Jim entered the apartment. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back, and Kate closed her eyes for a second, inhaling his scent. It reminded her of home, of being a kid.

Of her mom.

Ten years was a long time, and she didn't have to swallow around a lump in her throat anymore. Now it was just a faint, uncomfortable pang in her chest. She pulled away and looked up at him. "Thanks for coming."

His smile was so sincere it hurt. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Kate heard Rick clear his throat, and she turned around to see him standing a few yards behind her. His hands were in his pockets, and she knew it was because he was trying not to fidget. He fidgeted when he was nervous. It was frickin' adorable.

Kate stepped to her dad's side. "Rick, this is my dad, Jim." She turned to her dad as Rick started forward. "Dad, this is Rick Castle. My boyfriend."

Wow. That sounded even better than she thought it would, which was saying a lot. Rick's instant grin told her he felt the same, and his left hand found the small of her back as he shook her dad's hand with his right. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Kate smiled. Note to self: tease Rick about calling her dad "sir" later.

"You don't have to call me sir, son," Jim answered. "Just Jim is fine." Jim Beckett's eyes darted toward his daughter and then back to the author. "You know my daughter is quite a fan of yours."

"Yes, I know. She won't tell me how big a fan though. Would you care to?"

Kate sighed but smiled as Rick led her dad into the dining room. Rick winked at her over his shoulder, and she tried to give him her most severe detective look. This could be bad. Very bad.

But even then it would be very, very good.

X-X-X-X

Dinner went better than Kate had ever expected it would. Rick was charming, polite, and sociable; he put both Kate and her father at ease instantly. Kate, of course, could see his tells, the little hints of how nervous he was and how important it was to him that Jim Beckett approve, but whenever he started fidgeting or stuttering Kate stepped in for him seamlessly. She was surprised, really, how flawlessly they complimented each other. When it came to being with other people, they'd never been anything but Detective Beckett and famous author Richard Castle; now they were a couple, Rick and Kate, and she couldn't believe how well they fit. How easy it was.

And then there was her father. He and Rick hit it off instantly, and he laughed more than she'd heard him laugh in years. She laughed too. A lot. Her dad told stories of how Kate was as a child, and Rick told stories of what she was like as a detective. Kate wasn't accustomed to so much attention, to the focus being so closely centered on her, but she didn't mind nearly as much as she thought she would. It was kind of nice, actually. The pride that gleamed in her father's eye when Rick told him how she'd put Marco Salvatore in his place or how she'd solved cases that nobody else could've; the affection in Rick's eyes when her dad told him that Kate had insisted her parents call her Katherine her entire sixth grade year and would answer to nothing else…she felt like she had a family again. She'd been alone for so long, and she honestly hadn't minded it. Not all the time. But that was only because she'd forgotten what it was like to be sitting with people that cared about you, laughing and feeling like there was nowhere else in the world you'd rather be.

At last, Kate's father rose to go. She got up to go with him, wanting to walk him to the elevator, and she smiled as Rick shook his hand one last time. She could see the relief shining in the writer's eyes, happiness at how the night had gone. She was happy too. When she pulled Rick's front door closed behind her and started walking slowly toward the elevator with her dad next to her, she couldn't believe how comfortable she felt. Like somehow they'd been doing this for years.

"So," she said.

"So," her dad repeated. "That's Rick Castle, huh?"

"That's him."

"He's your favorite author, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"And now he's your boyfriend."

Kate smirked. Oh, the irony. "Yes. And now he's my boyfriend."

There was a beat of silence, and then Jim Beckett's shoulder bumped gently into his daughter's. "Does that mean you get advanced copies?"

Kate laughed. "I got advanced copies before I was dating him, Dad. I'm the muse."

"Ah. Of course." He cleared his throat. "I read it, you know."

Kate looked up at him. "Read what?"

"_Heat Wave_."

"You read _Heat Wave_?" Kate asked, stunned.

"My daughter was the inspiration. Of course I read it."

Kate didn't know what to say. She stared at the man walking next to her, seeing him for the first time in years. This was her _dad_. Not the man who had shattered after his wife's death and turned to alcohol, leaving his nineteen year old daughter to cope with the death of one parent and the addiction of another. Not the man who she'd come to a tenuous balance with over the past decade, sharing holidays and birthdays in a quiet but steadfastly loyal atmosphere. No. It was her dad again. The dad that used to dance with her mother in the kitchen after they washed dishes. The dad that took her to Charlie's for ice cream every time she got straight A's, even her senior year of high school. Her _dad_.

God, she'd missed him.

She stared down at her feet, unaccustomed to such a rush of emotion. Everything was changing so fast. Suddenly she was feeling things, getting attached to people again. She had a boyfriend, a good man who she was learning (slowly, but still) how to trust completely. She'd had dinner with her dad in a social setting, and it hadn't been awkward or resentful or painful. Sure there was a serial killer on the loose; sure she was terrified she was going to find the body of a child next. But just for now, just for this moment, everything was okay.

"Did you like him?"

She really hadn't meant to sound like a six year old needing her daddy's approval, but she did.

"Who? Rick?" Kate nodded. Her dad thought about it for a moment as they came to a stop in front of the elevator. "Yes," he said after a long while. "I liked him a lot. He's good for you. He makes you laugh. I haven't heard you laugh like that in…since your mother died."

Kate nodded, and try as she may she couldn't keep the smile from her lips. "He does make me laugh."

Jim Beckett was still holding his daughter's gaze. "Your mother would've liked him, Katie."

The torrent of emotion was so strong it made Kate's head spin. Joy over finally connecting with her father again. Sorrow that her mother would never get to say herself that she liked Rick. Grief over the tinge of sadness in her dad's voice, the sadness that she felt every time the ring around her neck moved against her skin. For every second she'd wished her dad hadn't abandoned her a decade ago when he'd turned to the bottle, there were two seconds where Kate had wished that her mother had never been stolen from her to begin with. She'd never meet Rick. Never meet Alexis, either, who Kate was absolutely certain her mother would've adored. She'd never read the bestselling book series her daughter had inspired. And if someday, maybe, possibly, Kate allowed herself to let Rick in all the way and he asked her to be his wife, her mother wouldn't get to see her baby girl walk down the aisle.

Kate could barely breathe. "You think so?" she whispered.

Her dad smiled. "I _know_ so. Your mom loved when you laughed, Katie. And I've never heard anyone make you laugh the way he does."

It was as impulsive as the hug she'd given Rick after her panic attack over the press, and it was just as meaningful, though in a different way. Kate stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her dad, and he didn't even hesitate to hug her back.

"I love you, you know," he murmured into her hair. "Always have, always will."

Kate nodded into his chest. "I love you too, Daddy."

She hadn't called him Daddy since she was a teenager and wanted to borrow the car keys, but somehow it felt good. Right. And then, before she started blubbering like a goddamn sorority girl, Kate pulled away. Her dad smiled at her.

"Would you and Rick be interested in coming out to visit sometime?" he asked her. His voice was slightly hesitant, and Kate wanted to hug him again. "Maybe you could bring this Alexis I've heard so much about."

Kate smiled up at him. "We'd really like that."

X-X-X-X-X

"So do I pass?" Rick murmured in her ear as he snuck up behind her as soon as she walked back into the loft. He seized the opportunity to suck on her earlobe.

Kate leaned her head to the side to give him better access, closing her eyes and enjoying the touch. She'd barely touched him all night in front of her dad, and it had nearly killed her because she hadn't been able to touch him all day at work either. "Nope," she teased. "You fail. He likes my other boyfriend better."

"Mmm, the stock broker?"

"No, the hockey player."

"He's missing his front teeth."

"But he's very manly and he offered season tickets. All you've got is books."

Kate felt her body being whipped around for her and then her back thudded against the nearest wall, pinning her between the wall and the writer. She tilted her head back lazily as Rick leaned down and grasped the backs of her thighs, then lifted her up so her legs were wrapped around him.

"My books are worth a lot of money, you know."

"You trying to buy me, Castle?"

"Are you buyable?"

Kate shook her head and leaned forward, stopping when her lips barely brushed his. They moved against his as she spoke. "This isn't the Stone Age, baby. You can't buy me with some cattle and a goat."

Rick pushed off the wall and headed for the kitchen. She had a feeling she knew exactly where he was going…the kitchen counter. Martha had left to tour with her new production that morning, and would be gone for at least two weeks. Alexis had promised to stay out until eleven at a friend's, because neither Rick nor Kate wanted her to meet Jim Beckett just yet. The loft was empty. The blinds were closed, as they had been permanently ever since the media frenzy. The kitchen counter was calling for them, and they were so very ready to answer.

"What about two goats?" Rick murmured back, lowering his mouth to her neck. He sucked on her favorite spot, and Kate tried to fight the haze and think clearly.

"No. What else you ah-hah…." she trailed off with a surprised gasp when he shifted to carrying her with one arm so his free hand could start roaming up north. Kate swallowed. "What else you got?"

She was sitting on the counter suddenly, her legs open as Rick stood in between them. "Three goats and a pig," he tried as he undid her belt buckle and whipped it off of her in a flash.

Kate grasped bunches of his shirt in her fingers and tugged him closer. She kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth, and then let her hands start to roam toward his belt. "I don't want a pig," she whispered. "But what I do want…" His belt buckle came undone. "You could very easily give me."

Rick gave her that unbelievably sexy smirk that he sometimes sent her way at the precinct when he knew she was thinking about something totally unprofessional. "What do you want, love?"

"You know exactly what I want."

And he definitely, definitely did.

X-X-X-X-X

Mark was furious. He couldn't believe it. She'd invited her father to the writer's loft. What the fuck. How could she be so dense? It wasn't like her. Couldn't she see it? Couldn't she see the poison seeping into her life, couldn't she understand what was happening to her? She deserved so much better, but she was so goddamn blind…

It was Castle. All Castle. He had her so blind, so manipulated, that she couldn't even see what Mark was trying to show her.

Mark knew he had to fix it for her. The next stage of his plan might work, but if it didn't…he knew exactly what would break her.

X-X-X-X-X

The ring of Kate's phone was unbelievably shrill as it echoed through Rick's bedroom. Kate jolted awake, feeling warm and delightfully small with Rick's body curled around her own. She blinked and squinted at the clock on the bedside table. The red numbers blared 5:13. Her phone rang again, and she reached out and started to fumble for it.

"Kate?" Rick murmured sleepily.

Kate ignored him, her fingers closing around her phone. She brought it to her ear. "Beckett."

"Detective Beckett? Detective Kate Beckett?"

Kate sat straight up in bed, Rick's arm falling from its position around her midsection and into her lap. The voice on the other end of the line was male and sounded panicky, maybe slightly hysterical.

"This is Detective Beckett," she answered assertively. "Who is this?"

"My name is Garrett Vaughn. Oh, Jesus Christ. The note said to call you. The note from Derrick Storm."

If there had been any ounce of sleep lingering in Kate's brain, it was gone instantly. She felt every muscle in her body go rigid. One of her hands reached for Rick unconsciously, gripping his arm tightly with her fingers. He picked his head up off the pillow and squinted at her.

"You got a note from Derrick Storm?" Kate repeated. Rick was suddenly up too, sitting next to her with his eyes wide in the darkness. "What did it say?"

"Oh God," Garrett Vaughn murmured. "Oh God. Who is Derrick Storm?"

"Mr. Vaughn, I need you to tell me what the note said."

"He took my son, Detective. Derrick Storm kidnapped my son."

X-X-X-X-X

It was six-thirty in the morning. Kate was sitting in the conference room at the precinct, her elbows resting on the table and her head in her hands. She had on jeans and a sweatshirt over her blouse, a baggy gray hooded one that belonged to Rick. She had a feeling Esposito and Ryan had already picked up on the fact that she was wearing Castle's sweatshirt, but they didn't say anything. Suddenly whether or not they knew she was sleeping with Rick didn't matter, to her or to them.

Derrick Storm had kidnapped a child. A seven year old little boy named Bradley Vaughn. Nothing else mattered.

Bradley went to Stratton Elementary. He'd been kidnapped straight out of his bed, but no one knew when or how. His parents had put him to sleep at eight the night before, and when his dad peeked in to check on him while he got ready for work around five the next morning, he'd realized his son was gone. He found the note on Bradley's pillow, simple and short and written in the same handwriting that now haunted Kate.

_I have your son. If you want to see him again, call Detective Kate Beckett. _Her cell phone number was scrawled next, and Kate couldn't even begin to describe how incredibly creepy it was that Derrick Storm knew her phone number.

She'd called Montgomery first, then Ryan and Esposito. She called Anderson in Rick's Porsche on the way to the precinct, and Anderson had taken care of calling the rest of his team. Montgomery had volunteered to call Commissioner Brady and Mayor Caldwell. Everyone knew, but there was nothing they could do. Nothing except wait for Storm to get in contact and give them some indication of what to do next. CSU guys were looking into Bradley's room, but that would take time. Ryan was talking to the parents in another room, because he had a knack for calming people down. Usually Kate did it, because regardless of Ryan's knack nobody could do it better than her. But this time, she'd passed it off. She couldn't take it. A child. A seven year old child. God, it made her sick.

Rick was sitting next to her, watching her. She could tell he was worried about her. He didn't touch her; he knew the rules for when they were at work. Honestly, Kate didn't think she could even bring herself to care. He could've stuck his tongue down her throat in front of everyone and she wouldn't have cared. All she cared about was that little boy.

The questions were eating her alive. Why a little boy? Why Stratton Elementary? Why had he switched to kidnapping, when his MO had been murder? Was he going to kill Bradley? Was he capable of that? How could she possibly look Garrett Vaughn and his wife in the eye and tell them that their son had died because a psychopath had fixated on her?

Anderson burst in the door suddenly, and the eyes of Kate, Rick, Esposito, and Montgomery all focused on him. He had eyes only for Kate. "Did Storm make contact with you?"

Kate shook her head. "No."

"He made contact with us."

Kate was up out of her chair in a heartbeat. "What? When? What did he say?"

"I didn't talk to him."

"Well who did?"

Anderson stepped out of the doorway suddenly, and Kate realized there was someone standing behind him. Someone she knew very, very well. The world around her came to a screeching halt, but even then she could see out of the corner of her eye the way Rick suddenly sat bolt upright in his chair. Kate kept her eyes on the man in the doorway, his name escaping her lips automatically.

"Will."


	12. Ghost of the Past

The last time Kate had seen Will had been when they'd ended their second go at a relationship.

She could remember the moment she'd decided to give Will another chance perfectly; mostly because it was right after Castle had given her a look that made her heart thud and then ruined it by saying _it's about your mother_. The memory was vivid, crystal clear, and as perfect as if it had happened five minutes ago.

"We're done," she'd told Castle after he'd explained his findings. Her voice had been dangerously quiet and indisputable. She hadn't yelled, hadn't screamed, hadn't punched him, though God knows she'd wanted to. But she hadn't. Instead she'd turned around and walked away, walked away from Castle and back toward Will in more ways than one. She'd meant it. They were done. So very, very done. She never wanted to see Castle again, didn't want to talk to him again, and certainly didn't want him shadowing her at work. Done meant done, meant forever.

She'd re-entered Will's room but stopped in the doorway, her arms folded over herself protectively. Will had smiled at her from the bed, but it hadn't quite registered with Kate. Her mind had been reeling. Castle hadn't listened to her. The one thing she had asked him not to do, the one thing she had told him would end the partnership the Mayor and Montgomery and Castle himself had been pushing on her from day one, and he'd done it. Son of a bitch.

"Kate?" She'd crashed back to earth at the sound of her name to see Will looking at her, concerned. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine."

"What did writer monkey want?"

"Something stupid."

Something stupid that had hurt like hell. The emotion she didn't want, the memories…Jesus. She was going to have to go back to therapy, wasn't she? Please God, no.

Kate had stared at the chiseled blond agent in the hospital bed in front of her, struggling to control her reactionary emotions to Rick fucking Castle and his goddamn inability to listen. She made the decision in an instant, something she rarely did. She crossed the room, leaned over the bed, and planted one on Will.

When she pulled away, he was smiling. "Should I thank Castle for that?"

She smirked at him. "Let's just say I suddenly have a craving for multicolored sprinkles."

Her craving had lasted for two months, and had ended as abruptly as it started. One night Will looked at her from across their table at Savoy, reached for her hand, and stunned her the same way he had the first time.

"I got offered a position in Chicago."

She stared at him. "Of course you did," she said after a moment. And then they fought. Not loudly, not in public. That wasn't Kate's style. But they fought. He wanted her to go with him. He wanted to make it work, wanted her to be his wife someday. Even if Kate hadn't panicked at the word wife, she wouldn't have gone. She couldn't leave New York, couldn't leave her job. Couldn't and wouldn't. Especially not for Will, who she had let back into her life, back into her bed, but nowhere near her heart. She left him sitting at the table that night. She'd never known if he'd actually gone to Chicago, because she started ignoring his phone calls the same way she'd been ignoring Castle's.

Guess she knew now.

"Hello, Kate," he said. His eyes were boring into her, and Kate felt the weirdest sensation start to take hold in her stomach.

"Storm called _you_?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you hang up?" Kate felt the eyes of everyone in the room turn to her in confusion. She glanced around at all of them and then turned back to Will. "I mean, come on. Someone calls you and says their name is Derrick Storm and you don't hang up? The name itself just screams prank phone call."

Will met her eyes meaningfully. "Before he told me his name, he told me that if I didn't do exactly what he said, he would kill you."

Something stirred in the sudden silence of the room, and Kate felt suddenly and unbelievably uncomfortable. And it wasn't all due to Derrick Storm. "Scam or not," he added, "I'm sure you can see how he got my attention."

The something lingering in the room grew stronger. Kate and Will held their eye contact from across the room. After a moment that seemed to last forever, Kate folded her arms across her chest. "What else did he say, Will?"

"Once he had my attention, he told me to check my mailbox. So I did. I found this."

Will produced a manila envelope from somewhere and slid it across the table. Kate caught it and opened it. She fished another prepaid phone out, with a post-it stuck on top. _Call me, Kate. Speed dial one. Bradley's counting on you._

It hit her like a monsoon and she was suddenly furious. Kate tightened her jaw, her fingers gripping the phone angrily. Unbelievable. She knew exactly what the fuck this guy was doing. She hadn't seen it at first. What Bradley Vaughn had to do with it all, that is. Then Will had shown up. With him came her only link to Storm. She knew exactly what Storm would say when she called; he'd say that he wanted her to work with Will. Christ. That goddamn psycho knew Will was her ex-boyfriend. She didn't know how he knew, just like she didn't know how he knew the other things that he did. But he definitely knew, and she had a feeling he'd taken Bradley Vaughn just to force her to work with Will again. It was just another attempt to break her. The murders that gestured toward her, then her family, then Castle. The photos. Now Will. He was trying to make her life a living hell.

God damn psycho.

"Kate," Will interrupted her thoughts. "Who is this guy?"

"He's a serial killer I've been tracking," she answered, looking up at him. "He's…fixated on me."

"Fixated?"

"Obsessed," Anderson interjected. "Hardcore obsessed. He says that everything he does is for her."

Will's eyes turned from Anderson to Kate quickly. The worry was evident, and Kate was sure it was obvious to everyone in the room and not just her. That included her new boyfriend, who she realized was sitting unbelievably straight in the chair next to her. Kate's heart hurt a little when she let her eyes drift to meet Rick's for half a second. They'd been through so much since this whole Storm fiasco had started. There wasn't even a chance she was going back to Will, but that didn't mean the stress wasn't still there on their incredibly new relationship. Why couldn't things just be easy?

"Do you know who he is?" Will asked.

Kate fixed her eyes on her ex. "Do you think we'd be standing here if I did?"

She could tell by the look on his face that her tone hurt him. "So why am I here?" he asked. "Why'd he pick me to be delivery boy?"

Kate sighed. "He kidnapped a little boy sometime last night. His name is Bradley Vaughn. He's seven." She chewed her lip absently for a second before continuing. "I'm sure he knows child abductions are your specialty."

"And he wants me to help you?"

"If I had to guess, yes."

"Why would he want me to help you?"

Kate glared at Will. God, he was dense. Everyone else in the room knew why; maybe not Anderson, but everybody else. How could he not see it?

"From the beginning he's said he wants to save me," Kate explained. "He hasn't said what he's saving me from, but he thinks he's saving me. His way of saving me is playing this sick little game…he leaves me bodies, clues, and I have to find him. He won't stop killing until I find him." She took a deep breath. The awkward part was coming. "The longer I take to find him, the harder he makes things for me. He's trying to break me."

"Break you?"

"That's what he calls it. The first victim was a woman by the name of Katherine Beckett. The next three had the names Jim, Johanna, and Kate. They were killed the same way my mother was."

"Jesus, Kate."

She ignored him. "The third was a reproduction of the first case Castle and I ever worked together. And now this."

"And the pictures," Anderson added. Kate sent him a murderous glare, but he was looking at Will. "He photoshopped pictures of Beckett and Castle in a…compromising position. Distributed them to the press."

"I saw," Will murmured, his eyes on Kate. She held his stare defiantly, daring him to ask. He didn't. "And I'm the next step in breaking you because of our…history."

"That's what I'm assuming. By kidnapping Bradley Vaughn, Storm has a way of forcing you back into my life. Apparently he thinks it will get to me. Help break me." She really, really wanted to point out that Storm had failed there, because she didn't have feelings for Will anymore and whether or not he had feelings for her meant nothing. But she didn't. Instead she turned to Montgomery, who'd been silent since Anderson had entered. "Do we have the equipment to track and record this phone call in the precinct?"

"Absolutely. Come on, Esposito. Help me get it."

Montgomery and Esposito left to get the equipment; Kate couldn't and wouldn't call Storm without it. The first time she'd called Storm, she had only been able to record the conversation. The second time, when he'd called Montgomery's office phone, he'd called from a prepaid phone they found in the trash at the crime scene. It was a slim chance they'd actually be able to track him this time, but she wasn't going to bypass it. At this point, she'd take anything she could get.

"I'm going to go brief the guys," Anderson said, interrupting Kate's thoughts. He looked at Will. "If Storm ends up saying he wants you on this case, we're going to have to let the Director know. This is getting big."

Will nodded. "I'd call him before you brief the guys. You know how he gets when he thinks he's the last to know something."

Anderson snorted in agreement and left the room, leaving Kate alone with her ex-boyfriend and her current boyfriend. Awesome. Just fucking awesome.

"Castle," Will greeted after a beat of incredibly awkward silence.

"Sorenson," Rick returned. Kate saw the nod pass between them. If she hadn't been so pissed at Storm, so annoyed at the sight of her ex, and so frustrated that her and Rick couldn't just catch a goddamn break, she might've laughed.

Will turned his eyes back to her. "Other than being the muse of a serial killer now too, I hope things are okay?"

"Things are great," she returned. Was it bad she wanted to break her own rule and stick her tongue down Rick's throat in the middle of the precinct and right in front of Will? "I take it you didn't go to Chicago?"

Will shrugged. "I tried it for a while. It just wasn't the same as New York. I guess something was missing."

Oh Jesus Christ. Had he really just said that? In front of Castle? Not that he knew she and Castle were a couple now. He didn't know anything. In fact, last time he'd been around she hadn't even been speaking to Castle. What a shock it must've been to see them working together again. And gracing the gossip columns too. Shit.

"You sure it's not missing here too?" Rick suddenly spoke up.

Kate glanced at him with wide eyes. Rick's gaze stayed trained on Will, and Kate looked over to see Will was staring right back. Oh for fuck's sake. This was even worse than when Anderson and Castle had their showdown the other day.

"Well you know what they say," Will retorted. "The past never really dies."

Castle smirked. "That's funny. I always heard that the past was insignificant compared to the present and the future."

"Didn't your book get published a while ago? What are you still here for?"

"Oh, I'm doing an entire series. Plus no one's asked me to leave, so…"

Kate was opening her mouth to tell them both to shut up because she wasn't some goddamn shiny toy they could fight over when Montgomery re-entered the room. "All right, Beckett. Let's get this show on the road."

Kate grabbed the phone and headed for Montgomery, watching as he hit all the right buttons and registered everything. She was impressed; he'd been administration for a while, but he still knew what he was doing. Once everything was hooked up and Kate had taken enough deep breaths to convince herself not to yell at the two men who were currently glaring at each other like teenagers, she dialed the number one. "At least thirty seconds," Montgomery reminded her quietly. She nodded.

Just like the last time, it rang once. The ring echoed over the speaker they'd hooked it up to, and then the voice of Derrick Storm filled the room.

"Kate. Good morning."

Both Rick and Will instantly looked at her. She ignored them. "Derrick. I wish I could say the same to you."

"Oh, bad morning?" he returned. She hated that he sounded genuinely concerned. "What happened?"

"You know exactly what happened. You kidnapped Bradley Vaughn last night. That doesn't make my morning very pleasant."

"And I'm very sorry for that. But if you could just learn the lesson you need to learn on your own…" He trailed off abruptly, like he'd realized he said too much. Kate jumped on him in a flash.

"What lesson, Derrick? What do I need to learn?"

He ignored her. "Is Agent Will Sorenson in the room?"

Kate nodded at Will. "I'm here," Will said.

"Hello, Agent Sorenson. So glad you could join us."

"You want to tell me what I'm doing here, Storm?" Will answered.

"Oh, that's easy. You have to help Detective Beckett find Bradley."

"You don't think I'm capable of doing it on my own?" Kate shot at him. She knew it would get to him, and she was baiting him on purpose. Who said she couldn't use his sick little obsession to her advantage?

"Why Detective, I'm insulted. You know I think the world of you."

"I don't believe you, Derrick. Yesterday you were adamant about the feds not knowing what they're doing, and today you're bringing one in to help me. What's the deal?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. When Storm spoke again, his voice was eerily quiet. Kate couldn't stop the shiver that sent goose bumps over her skin.

"You know this has nothing to do with the feds. Nothing to do with Bradley Vaughn. You know that, Kate."

"I don't think I do."

"Oh you do. Don't play dumb, sweetheart. It doesn't suit you. You know exactly what I'm doing. I can hear it in your voice. But just for the sake of illumination, let me make it perfectly clear. Agent Sorenson is to aid you in returning Bradley Vaughn safe and sound back to his parents. Not because you need help doing your job, but because you need help in another area of your life."

God, she hated this son of a bitch. Kate kept her eyes on the table, because she didn't want to see the look on anyone's face. She knew exactly what area of her life he was talking about, and not only did it royally piss her off, it confused her. What the hell was he playing at? Why was he trying to help her love life? She didn't need any help. She had Rick.

"Tell me, Detective, how difficult do you think it'll be? For you and the writer. How hard do you think it will be for him to watch you work so closely with someone who knows you so very, very well?" Kate couldn't stop her eyes from going to Rick. The look on his face was tight, pained, and Kate could hardly stand it. Storm had no idea that just the other night they'd had a fight that had started over jealousy. He had no idea that he was hitting their weakest spot. Or maybe he did. He knew everything else. Why not this?

"You think he'll get jealous?" Storm pressed on. Kate was getting more livid by the second. "Do you think he'll be thinking about Sorenson's hands on you? The fact that once upon a time the Agent knew every inch of you-"

"Fuck you, Derrick."

She heard her voice cut through the room like a butcher knife, ending Storm's monologue and effectively turning the eyes of every person in the room onto her. She didn't look at any of them. She placed her palms on the table and leaned forward over the speaker phone.

"You know for someone who claims to be a fan of mine, you really don't seem to know who you're dealing with. You can't break me. You can't break us." She looked right at Rick when she said _us_. And she meant it. "But why don't you go ahead and keep trying. It'll make it that much better when I nail you."

His voice was low, almost sad. "I hope you're wrong, Kate. For your sake, I hope you're wrong."

"I'm rarely wrong, Derrick. You know that."

There was a long pause, and then he spoke again. "There's an ice cream parlor your dad used to take you to when you got straight A's. Go there first."

There was a click, and the call ended. Kate stared at the phone, reeling internally. He knew about the ice cream parlor?

"We got a trace," Montgomery said quietly from next to her.

Kate looked up and realized that he'd just heard that conversation. So had Esposito and Will. And Ryan and Anderson, who had re-entered the room at some point she hadn't noticed. And the conversation was recorded. Holy shit.

"We should send some uniforms," she answered. "Esposito and Ryan too."

Montgomery nodded and looked at the boys. "You heard her, boys. Get going."

"Anderson," Kate added. "Go with them. Take your guys." Anderson nodded and left the room with Ryan and Esposito without saying a word. Kate looked at Will. "We should go to the ice cream parlor. That's where he wants us." Will nodded. Kate reached over and tugged Rick's ear gently. "Come on, kitten. We've got work to do."

Rick was on his feet in a heartbeat, his smile faint because of everything that had just happened, but still there nonetheless. Kate brushed past Will on her way out without even looking at him.

This was going to be an awful day.

X-X-X-X-X

Kate was trying and failing to evade the memories that came with her return to the ice cream parlor. Rick hovered at her side, cracking jokes and trying to elicit a smile. When she did smile, it was more because he was trying so hard than because of what he'd said. He was trying desperately to get her mind off of the intensity of Derrick Storm, the horror of Bradley's kidnapping, the frustration of Will's reappearance. Everything was overwhelming, but Castle in her ear being so very Castle seemed to make it all a little better. So she smiled.

Lucky for them the parlor sold coffee as well as ice cream, so it was open for the breakfast crowd when they arrived around eight. The first thing they did was ask the cashier if she knew anything about Storm, but she was clueless. She called the owner to come out, and when Will started to ask him questions Kate realized she had the opportunity she'd been looking for since they'd left the precinct. She made her way toward the back of the store where the bathrooms were and Castle followed automatically. He was babbling about how Dippin' Dots were the antichrist of ice cream, and Kate listened with an amused half smile.

"They're just so flashy, you know? I mean what's wrong with a good bowl of Rocky Road? Or maybe a pint of Chunky Monkey?"

"I prefer Half Baked, myself," she murmured idly, reaching for the doorknob of the women's bathroom.

Rick grinned at her. "There are so many places I could go with…hey. Why are you going in…oomph!"

He grunted as she shoved him into the bathroom and then slid in after him. It was one of those one room bathrooms, and Kate turned to lock the door the second she was in. "Uh, Kate? Is nature calling?"

She turned on him and gave him a wicked smile. "Not the way you think." And then she shoved him up against the wall and gave him a kiss that left her head spinning and her body burning in all the right places. Judging from the dazed look on his face when she pulled away, it had the same effect on him.

"Whoa," he said after a while. His eyes were wide. "That was…whoa. What did I do? I gotta know, cause if I get that every time I do it I am _so_ doing it all the time."

Kate ran her hands up his chest, tugging on the lapels of his suit jacket. She looked him straight in the eye, wanting to make sure he took what she was about to say very seriously.

"I'm still all in. I promise."

She watched as understanding dawned on his face. He was serious, but only for a fleeting second; then he was smiling. "Cross your heart, hope to die? Stick a needle in your eye?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Pinky promise?"

She gave him a look. "You're kidding, right?"

He held his pinky finger in front of her face solemnly. "You think I ever kid about a pinky promise?"

Kate sighed. She locked her pinky with his. "Fine. Just this once."

"Pinky promises are like Pringles. Once you start, you won't be able to stop. Or once you pop or something like that."

She smirked at him. "Watch me."

She gave him one last quick kiss and headed for the door. He was right behind her.

"You know Will could be talking to the owner for a while."

"Your point?"

"Well, we're here and you locked the door and you already revved the engine…"

She unlocked the door and swung it open. "Not happening, Castle."

"Kate-"

She turned around just long enough to press her finger over his lips. "Tonight," was all she said. And then, "You have no idea."

He groaned. "You're going to be the death of me, woman."

"I promise I'll say something nice at your funeral."


	13. Calm Before the Storm

_**Heartfelt thanks to a certain group that is making sure this story doesn't turn into Swiss cheese. I owe you. Reviews are always appreciated. **_

Rick was the one that saw it. Kate didn't know how he had, pouting the way he was because she refused to have a quickie in the bathroom of her childhood ice cream parlor with her ex ten feet away, but he did.

"Kate," he murmured. She was about to correct his address of her when he brushed by her and headed for a box sitting by the door. It was the lost and found box. She watched as he bent over it, peering down at something. Will suddenly appeared next to Kate, staring at Rick too.

"Castle," Kate called. "What is it?"

He looked at her over his shoulder. "_Heat Wave_." He gestured toward the box, and Kate saw the corner of the novel sticking out. No way that was a coincidence. She walked toward him, reaching for the pair of latex gloves she always kept in her coat pocket just in case. She pulled them on and then plucked the book from the box, opening it to see the handwriting she was so familiar with inked on the inside cover.

_Nikki Heat is nothing like you_, it read. _You're better. There is one part I like though. I marked it._ And he had; the corner of page 26 was folded downward, marking it. Kate finished reading the note before she turned to it. _You're better than a muse, Kate. Help me save you._

Kate flipped to page 26. There was one line highlighted, a line said by Nikki: _Say that again and I'll break your knees. _Nikki was talking to another character who had just called her Rook's girlfriend.

Kate stared at the yellow highlighted line. Was this really about her and Castle? Was this psychopath actually killing people so that she'd stop being Castle's muse, maybe stop being his girlfriend too? It made sense. There was the recent crime scene, a copy of her first with Castle. Then the pictures Storm had released to the media, which had almost made her end the relationship; Storm knew so much already, he must've known the idea of being a public spectacle would be unappealing to her. Now Will was back, and Storm had just made a show of explaining how jealous Rick should be…Jesus Christ. This guy thought he was saving her from _Castle_.

"It's you," Kate breathed, looking up at Rick.

He frowned at her. "What's me?"

"What he's saving me from. He thinks he's saving me from you."

"How do you know that?" Will questioned, sidling up next to her.

"Look," she answered, pointing at the inside cover again, lowering the book so both men could see. "He says it right here. I'm better than a muse. He doesn't like that I'm Castle's muse."

"What's wrong with being my muse?" Castle wondered, pouting his lips slightly.

"Well you have sort of turned her life upside down," Will said before Kate could answer. Castle's pout turned into an annoyed frown. "I mean those pictures may have been fake, but the press reaction was real. You've made her a public spectacle. Put her in the spotlight. The spotlight can be dangerous."

"Are you saying it's my fault this guy fixated on her?"

"No," Will answered levelly. "But it may have contributed-"

"This guy thinks she's better than a muse," Rick interrupted. "That means he knew her before she was one."

"But still. You have to admit-"

"That's enough," Kate cut in loudly, stepping in between the two men. She glared up at Will. "Look, Will, this is hard on all of us. But you're being a jackass."

"Kate, I didn't-"

She held her hand up. "No. You don't get to talk. I'm a big girl, Will. I make my own decisions, I run my own life. This Nikki Heat thing may not have started as my choice, but it is now. And I really don't appreciate you questioning my judgment."

Will stared down at her. She could see the hurt in his eyes, but she wasn't done yet. She'd had enough of him and the misplaced protectiveness that she hadn't asked for. She'd had enough of how he was treating Rick, too. But even beyond that, there was something else. Something she couldn't ignore anymore. Frustration. Fury. Christ, she was sick of finding goddamn cryptic clues. Why couldn't she just catch this son of a bitch? Why was he always one step ahead of her? What kind of cop was she if there were five dead bodies and a missing kid and she hadn't even found _one_ good lead? She was taking it out on Will, she knew that. But at the moment, she really didn't give a shit.

"You know those pictures Storm released of me and Castle?" she pressed ruthlessly. "The ones where I'm half naked and have my tongue down his throat? They aren't fake."

The surprise, the pain that suddenly dominated Will's expression didn't even faze her.

"So stop blaming him, stop trying to one up him, just _stop_. You and I aren't together anymore. Rick and I are. Get the _fuck_ over yourself." She held his eyes, just to let her words sink in fully, and then spun on her heel and strode away.

The door to the ice cream parlor banged shut behind her. The bang jolted her out of the red haze she'd been enveloped in, and she walked a couple yards down the sidewalk before she leaned against the brick wall of a building. She shoved her hands in her coat pockets and bowed her head, her eyes fluttering closed just long enough for her to realize what was happening.

She was starting to break.

X-X-X-X-X

"Anderson, Ryan, and Esposito found another prepaid cell phone," Montgomery told Kate as she sank into a chair in front of his desk. It was only ten o'clock in the morning and she was already exhausted. "He must've tossed it and then run."

"And since we have no idea what he looks like, we couldn't canvass the area for him," Kate finished wearily.

"Yes," Montgomery agreed. "And the ice cream parlor?"

Kate nodded at the copy of _Heat Wave_ enclosed in an evidence bag that she'd set on his desk. "That's what we found. I know what he's trying to save me from now."

Montgomery glanced at the novel and then turned his eyes back to his best detective. "What?"

She sighed. "Rick."

Kate didn't think she'd ever called Castle by his first name in front of the Captain. Montgomery's surprise at the meaning of what she'd said overrode his surprise at the way she'd said it. "Castle?" he questioned. "Why would he be saving you from Castle?"

"I don't know. But it all adds up. He's said it all along. I'm better than a muse. The poison seeping into my life. The last crime scene was a copy of me and Castle's first crime scene. The pictures…Captain, I don't think this is just about me. I think it's about me and Castle."

Montgomery listened attentively, nodding his head slightly. "He wants you to break up with Castle."

"It's more than just the…romantic relationship." God, she hoped she never had to say_ romantic_ _relationship_ around Montgomery again. At least not when it referred to her. "I think he hates that I'm Castle's muse."

"So it couldn't just be someone who's a fan of Castle?"

"No. If anything, he hates Castle. I think it's someone who's a fan of me."

Montgomery eyed her worriedly. Kate was struck once again, as she had been at least a dozen times since Storm had first appeared in her life, by the realization that Montgomery sometimes looked at her differently than he looked at his other detectives. Maybe it was because she was so damn good at what she did, and the rumors around the precinct were that he was grooming her to replace him if he got promoted. Maybe it was something else, something that was too emotional for her to even think about right now. Whatever it was, Kate couldn't help but feel like she'd seen the same look in her father's eye the other night.

"He does seem to know quite a bit about you."

Kate snorted. "Yeah. It's incredibly creepy."

"I'm sure. Beckett, I know we keep asking you this, but…are you sure you can't think of anyone who would do this? Someone who knows you well and wouldn't like that you were Castle's muse or his girlfriend?"

She shook her head. "No. Nobody. Sir, I really can't believe I'm saying this, but…everybody loves Castle. The book was a bestseller. I can't see how someone could have this big of a problem with it."

"What about his comments about breaking you? He's obsessed, but he also wants to make you suffer…"

"Like he's punishing me for something," Kate acknowledged. "I know. I don't understand it either."

Further conversation was interrupted by the sound of Montgomery's door opening. Kate turned in her chair to see Will leaning halfway into the office. "Kate? Can I borrow you for a second?"

She was still mad at him, so she seriously considered telling him no. Instead, she arched an eyebrow. "For what?"

"We got something from Bradley's room I think you'll want to see."

Kate turned back to Montgomery, who gestured toward the door. "Go. Keep me posted."

Kate rose from her chair and headed out of the office, stepping into the bullpen through the door Will held open for her. "CSU found almost nothing at the scene," Will told her, leading her toward the conference room. He was all business, and he wouldn't look at her. Kate was glad. "Nothing except another copy of _Heat Wave_."

"Another one?" Kate stepped into the conference room and saw the book sitting on the table. She headed toward it. Will had left a pair of latex gloves sitting next to it, and she started pulling them on automatically.

"It isn't highlighted this time," Will said as Kate lifted up the book in her gloved hands. "It's marked with a bookmark."

Kate lifted up the bookmark. It was a cover from a magazine, folded in half and then folded again a few times. Kate unfolded it and saw that it was the cover of the issue of _Cosmopolitan_ that Rick had been in. Her boyfriend smiled up at her from the picture, two scantily clad bachelor party cops hanging off of him. Kate pursed her lips in annoyance, but the writing scrawled in the corner of the cover caught her eye. _You deserve better_, it read.

Kate sighed and let the cover flutter down onto the table. Apparently Storm had decided to be less subtle. At first, she could've easily missed the Castle connection; the photos could've just been to hurt her, not to make her break up with Rick. The crime scene that modeled her first case with Rick could've been anything. But Storm's rant about Rick and Will and jealousy this morning, followed by his two copies of _Heat Wave_ and their accompanying notes, made it pretty hard to ignore that the "poison" he was talking about was none other than the man she was falling for.

"You were right," Will said quietly. Kate glanced up at him, and realized for the first time they were alone in the room. "He's trying to save you from Castle."

Kate laughed humorlessly and looked down at the cover. Rick smiled up at her. "What is it with all the men in my life thinking I need to be saved?" she murmured, more to herself than to him. Her temper suddenly flared, and she flashed her eyes up to meet her ex's. "Do I look like a fucking damsel in distress?"

Will didn't wince at her change in tone. "No. Maybe that's why we all want to save you."

Kate stared at him. "That doesn't even make sense, Will."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips as he slid his hands into his pockets. "Sure it does. Men like to be heroes, Kate. A woman like you…who wouldn't want to be her knight in shining armor?" Kate didn't say anything, because she didn't know what the hell to say. Will cleared his throat. "Anyway, I've got about a dozen names of people who might know how Storm got into Bradley's room. We could split the list up, go visit and ask some questions. Anderson and I will take some, Ryan and Esposito can take some, and you and Castle can have the rest."

Kate caught it. She didn't know if she was supposed to, but she did. _You and Castle can have the rest_. Was that his way of apologizing? He wasn't using their moment of alone time in the conference room to talk to her, wasn't using the interviews as a chance to convince her to go with him. He was…backing off?

"Sure," she agreed. "That sounds great. I'll go get the boys."

She turned away from him, pulling off the gloves, but when her hand fell on the door handle and she heard him call her name, she sighed. She knew it was too good to be true. She turned back around, her eyebrows raised expectantly. "Yeah?"

He gazed at her for a second before he spoke. "I'm sorry."

Oh. Wow. She hadn't been expecting that. Well, maybe a little. She had verbally bitch slapped him this morning. Then again, Will had never been one to apologize. She didn't think he'd apologized at all for leaving her when he'd come back the first time.

She shook her head. "It's fine."

"You're with him?" he asked before she could turn around again. "With Castle. I mean you guys are actually…together. Dating."

She didn't hesitate. "Yes. We are. We're trying to keep it out of the press…"

He knew what she meant. He shook his head. "I won't tell anyone. I wouldn't do that to you."

She held his eyes, and she knew he was telling the truth. Will rarely lied. He was arrogant and pompous and all kinds of things, but he wasn't a liar.

"Thank you," she murmured.

He shrugged. "Sure. I'm happy for you, you know. I know I've been an ass, but…I'm happy for you, Kate."

Kate bit her lip. There was the man she'd cared about for such a long time. She hadn't caught a glimpse of him all morning, but there he was. Will was a good man. Arrogant as all hell, but still. He was a good man. Honestly, it had hurt the first time he left. It didn't hurt anymore…Castle pretty much dominated her heart nowadays. But she still couldn't stifle the affection that tugged at her heart for Will, even if it was just as a friend and just for old time's sake.

"Thank you, Will."

And then, before he could mess it up and before she said anything he might (god forbid) take as her wanting to give their relationship a third go, she left to get her boys. All three of them.

X-X-X-X-X

Fourteen names. Fourteen people were on the list Will had drafted after talking to the Vaughns, and not one of them had been able to help. Kate had split the list between Will and Anderson, Esposito and Ryan, and herself and Castle. Collectively they'd talked to all fourteen, and the fourteen had given them nothing except that Derrick had seized the perfect moment to slip in and slip out.

Kate was frustrated. It was five o'clock, and given the time of year it was already starting to get dark. She hated the idea that Bradley was out there somewhere in the falling dark, scared and maybe hurt. She didn't think Storm would kill him…if he did then there was no reason for Will to stick around, and Will was really what Storm was after. Kate clung to that fact, but even then she was still worried. Bradley was only seven. _Seven_. At that age, what did he understand except that someone he had never met had stolen him from his parents and wouldn't let him go? Poor kid was probably terrified. Not to mention scarred for life. Kate knew what it was like to be scarred for life, and she hated that Bradley had joined the club.

Kate lifted her head to look at herself in the mirror again. She was in the women's bathroom, leaning on her hands which were resting on either side of the sink. She'd needed to escape the bullpen for a minute, the boys who were tossing around a tennis ball and ideas, and the concerned eyes of Rick and Will, who both knew her well enough to see that she was fraying at the edges.

God, she looked awful. Dark circles under her eyes, signs of the exhaustion she was struggling with. She'd gotten that phone call from Garrett Vaughn over twelve hours ago, and she hadn't stopped going since. In the midst of the hunt for Bradley there was Will, and even though everything was okay now Kate couldn't ignore the stress. She tried to remember if she'd eaten all day…yes. At lunch. Rick had brought her a sandwich from her favorite place. When he'd given it to her he'd met her eyes and told her thank you…thank you for sticking up for him to Will, thank you for acknowledging their relationship, thank you for…how had he put it? _Thank you for being extraordinary. _God damn, the man knew how to make her stomach flutter. His fingers had brushed over hers faintly as he pressed her lunch into her hands. That had been her only emotional respite all day.

She would never admit it, never give in to Derrick Storm, but staring into her own tired eyes in the mirror she couldn't help but recognize that his plan to break her was nearly working. She'd been going non-stop for five days straight. For five days Derrick Storm had dominated her life and left almost every aspect of it in shambles. She didn't know how much more she could take. They had to catch a break in this case, and they had to catch it fast.

She sighed and hung her head again. _Think_, she told herself. _Think, Kate. There's got to be something you missed._ She ran over everything in her head. The notes. The phone conversations. The books. His most recent clues, the _Heat Wave_ copies, and the part he had picked out. Nikki being pissed that someone called her Rook's girlfriend. That's probably how Storm wanted her to be. Kate let her mind drift over that particular part of the book. Nikki was talking to a friend of Rook's, a guy who'd been in a trailer at a construction site they were visiting. It was a closed down construction site, because whoever the victim was had been in charge of it…

Kate's head snapped up. Wait. Were there any construction sites in the city right now that had stilled their work momentarily?

She searched her own eyes in the mirror. No. It couldn't be. He wouldn't make it that easy on her.

Would he?

Kate was out of the bathroom and standing in between the circle of her boys in record time. She shot her hand up and caught the tennis ball as it traveled between Will and Esposito and looked around at all of them. "Where are they doing construction in the city?"

All of them stared at her like she'd lost her mind. "Umm, Rockefeller," Ryan offered after a moment.

Kate shook her head. "No, too busy. Where else?"

"Upper West Side?" Anderson tried.

"Somewhere where they halted work," Kate replied impatiently. "Come on, boys, think."

"Brooklyn!" Castle cried a moment later. He was suddenly out of his chair and standing in front of her. "Bensonhurst, more specifically. They halted construction on a new apartment building because of some legal issues. I just read it in the paper. Why?"

Kate stood stock still, thinking it over for a moment. Storm had left no indication that the scene he'd marked in _Heat Wave_ was supposed to be more than a comment on how she should feel about Castle. He hadn't highlighted the construction scene part; he'd highlighted Nikki's words. But still. There were a dozen other scenes in the book where Nikki said similar things, but he'd picked that one. He'd picked it for a reason. This guy never did anything on accident. It was a long shot, but it was still a shot. She had to try.

"Call in a tactical team, tell them to meet us at the construction site in Bensonhurst," she told Esposito, reaching for her coat. "Will and Anderson, get your guys. I think I know where Bradley is."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate spun around a bulldozer, her hands raised with her service piece in one and her flashlight in another. All around her flashlight beams moved, the NYPD tactical team and the FBI's teams mixing to comb the construction site. Kate felt her heart racing beneath her bullet proof vest. Beyond just wanting to find Bradley, she wanted to find Storm. She wanted to look that son of a bitch right in the eye and tell him that he'd lost.

Kate spotted a large hole up ahead, covered by caution tape and some boards. Something in her gut tugged on her, but more than that the cop side of her brain told her it was the perfect place to hide a kid. Or a body. Jesus. She crept toward the hole and stopped at the edge, shining her flashlight through the slats of wood with her gun still poised and ready.

Peering up at her from the bottom of the hole, dusty, wide eyed, and alive, was a little boy.

Kate's heart leapt into her throat, her eyes quickly scanning the little boy for signs of injury as her pulse rioted. She swept her flashlight beam through the rest of the hole, just to make sure Storm wasn't lurking somewhere in the shadows, and then holstered her gun.

"Over here!" she shouted. She dropped to her knees and shoved a few of the boards away hastily. The boy cowered in the corner, his arms huddled by his chest nervously. Kate leaned her head down into the hole.

"Bradley?" she asked softly. He stared at her, pushing his back into the dirt as if to crawl away, but there was nowhere to go. "Bradley, my name is Kate. I'm a police officer."

Bradley blinked up at her. Kate heard the footsteps of other officers and agents behind her, and she waved them back hastily. She didn't want to scare Bradley anymore than he already was.

"Would you like to see my badge?" she asked the boy.

A moment passed, and then Bradley nodded. Kate reached for her badge, and then dropped it gently down into the hole. It thudded next to the little boy's feet, and he stared at it for a long moment before glancing at Kate again and then reaching for it. He stared down at the badge in his hand, and Kate let him look at it for a minute before she spoke again.

"Bradley, are you okay?"

He looked up at her. "You know the bad man?" he mumbled.

"I'm trying to stop the bad man from doing bad things," she answered. "That's why I'm here. I came to rescue you."

Bradley glanced down at her badge in his hand and then back up. "You can take me to Mommy and Daddy?"

"I can. You have to come out of the hole, though. Can you come out of the hole?" Bradley stared up at her doubtfully. Kate thrust her hand down into the hole. "I can help you out, Bradley. I can take you to your mom and dad. But you have to grab my hand, okay?"

A moment passed, and then Bradley rose to his feet and tripped toward Kate. His little hand reached up, flailing to grasp hers, and Kate grabbed a hold of it. She took a deep breath and then pulled, heaving the little boy out of the hole with a little difficulty. The second Bradley was out of the hole and on his knees next to Kate he dove into her lap, nuzzling his head into her and whimpering fearfully.

Kate stared down at the little boy, the flashlights of over a dozen agents and officers trained on her. Bradley's right hand grasped part of her shirt, his left hand still holding her badge tightly. Kate reached up automatically and smoothed her hand over his dark hair, her other arm lifting to encircle the little boy in a tight hug.

"It's okay, little man," she whispered, still stroking his hair. "Everything is okay now."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate was standing in the street outside of the construction site with Bradley in her arms. They were waiting for his parents. Bradley refused to let anyone touch or hold him except Kate. Getting the paramedics to look at him had been a nightmare, and it was only once he got to hold one of Kate's hands in both of his, his grip astoundingly tight for a seven year old, that Bradley allowed the paramedics to touch him.

Now he had his arms wrapped around her neck and his head resting on her shoulder. He'd found the chain with her mom's ring and was holding it in his little fingers. "Pretty," he whispered.

Kate pressed her cheek to his forehead, bouncing up and down slightly as she walked with him. "It's my mom's," she answered softly.

Bradley lifted his head to look at her. "Is your mom nice?"

Kate smiled. "Yes. Very nice. Like your mom."

Bradley nodded and stared down at the ring he still held in his hands. "The bad man told me you were coming."

Kate stopped bouncing. "He did?"

"Uh huh. He said a nice lady named Kate was going to come save me, but only if I stayed quiet in the hole."

"How long were you in the hole before I came, Bradley?"

"I dunno. A long time. It was scary. I don't like the dark. Mommy lets me have a nightlight but the bad man said no."

Kate let her eyes graze over the child's face, taking in every feature and memorizing it. Bradley, at least, could offer her some comfort. There were five dead bodies hanging over her head, but she had a very much alive seven year old in her arms. She may not have been able to save those other people, but she'd saved him.

Kate would've killed to be in Bradley's head, if only for a moment. He'd seen Derrick Storm; he'd seen the man who'd been making her life a living hell for the past five days. If she could only get inside of his head, get a picture of who Storm was, she could start moving forward with the case. She'd have Bradley meet with a sketch artist, of course, but he was only seven. How much could he really tell them?

Bradley suddenly fidgeted in her arms, and Kate held on tighter so she wouldn't drop him. She watched as the little boy fished in his pocket for something. "He said I gotta give this to you. Like a present." Kate watched as he pulled a watch out of his pocket. She reached into her coat, grasping a latex glove, but since she was holding Bradley she couldn't put it on. Instead she used it like she would've used an oven mitt to grab something hot out of the stove. She was opening her mouth to ask Bradley a question when a screech erupted into the night air.

"Bradley!"

Kate and Bradley both whipped their heads around to see the Vaughns climbing out of a police cruiser. Bradley started squirming, shouting for his mom, and Kate set him down on the blacktop. She watched as he sprinted into his mother's arms, and couldn't help but let her heart lift at the sight. That's what it was supposed to be like. Children were supposed to have their mothers, and mothers were never supposed to lose their children. That's why she did what she did, that's why she did a job that sometimes destroyed little pieces of her…for moments like this, when all was right in the world, even if only for a moment.

"I know I'm not supposed to touch you at work," a voice whispered in her ear. Kate jumped at first, but relaxed the second her brain registered that it was Rick's voice. "But I'd really, really like to give you a hug."

Kate turned toward him. "Rules were made to be broken," she murmured. And then she stepped into his waiting arms and hugged him hard, because Jesus Christ she'd never needed a hug so badly in her life.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," Rick whispered as his hand traced a comforting circle on her back. "Then again, I never thought I'd get a hug at work, either."

Kate closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. "If people ask, I'll deny it."

He laughed. "I would expect nothing less."

She pulled away from him and looked up to meet his eyes. She exhaled slowly, a breath that she'd been holding all day. "We saved him."

Rick grinned. "_You_ saved him. The rest of us are just witnesses to your brilliance. And your haunting good looks."

Kate was lifting her hand to pinch him when she realized she was still holding the watch. She looked down at it. It was a man's watch, similar to the one Rick was currently wearing. Scrawled across the face of the watch in black letters were the words _Tick Tock_. Kate turned the watch over with a frown, and saw that words were scrawled on the back of the watch too. Her stomach dropped.

_It only gets worse. _


	14. Hold On

"_**Hold On" is a song by Michael Buble. Reviews are welcome, encouraged, and dearly loved. **_

Kate was wearing one of Rick's shirts, but this time it wasn't part of their after-sex routine. When they got back to the loft sometime around eight thirty that night, they didn't have sex. Instead they peeled off the clothes they'd been wearing since five thirty that morning, changed into their after-sex clothes, climbed into bed, and straight up cuddled.

It was exactly what Kate needed. God, it felt so good. Rick's shirt was soft against her skin, and it made her smell like him. The sheets smelled like him and like her, smelled like _them_. She was laying on her side, her right leg draped over him and her right hand tracing an endless pattern on his chest. His fingers combed through her hair gently, and Kate could almost feel her heartbeat syncing with his as it thumped in the ear that rested against his chest. _Bah-dum. Bah-dum. Bah-dum._

"You were really good with Bradley."

His voice sounded like a low rumble with her ear pressed against his chest the way it was. Kate laughed helplessly. "I didn't really have a choice. He wouldn't let go of me."

She could hear the smile in his voice. "You know kids are really, really good judges of character. Bradley probably had you pegged the moment he saw you."

Kate lifted her head to look at Rick. "Oh? And what did he peg, exactly?"

"Same thing I pegged. Good cop, good person, good heart."

"You know I feel like I should say I pegged you as this great guy the first time I met you, but it would totally be a lie."

Rick laughed, and she loved him for it. The fact that he never took himself too seriously made her a better person, because it kept her from taking herself too seriously. "Well I'm pretty sure I didn't make the best first impression," he reasoned. "Or second. Probably not the third, either…" He grinned down at her. "How'd I end up getting you, anyway?"

Kate gave him a serious look. "Let me tell you something about crazy people. The sex is unbelievable."

Rick's entire face was suddenly dominated by a grin, and Kate knew hers was too. "I'm your deep fried Twinkie," he laughed.

"Nah. I hate Twinkies. And deep fried? Ugh. You can be my chocolate covered brownie."

"That's a lot of chocolate."

"That's the point."

"You'd like me better if I was covered in chocolate?"

"So much better."

He was opening his mouth to say something else when she pulled herself up toward him and planted her lips on his mouth. She smiled as she pulled away. "Thank you."

His eyebrows knit together, making his forehead wrinkle. "For what?"

"For taking care of me today. Making me laugh, buying me lunch, keeping my coffee fresh…"

His fingers were weaving through her hair again. Kate was convinced he liked her hair more than he liked any other part of her. Sometimes at the precinct when Esposito and Ryan weren't looking he would lean really close to her and inhale slowly, like he was trying to memorize the scent of her shampoo. Whenever he did it, a little tremor of something raced through her body. When they were alone, he liked to run his fingers through it. Kate never objected, because it just felt so_ good_.

"I should be thanking you." She could hear the change in his tone. They weren't joking anymore. "For letting me take care of you."

"What do you mean?"

He smiled at her. "I don't know if you know this about yourself, but you're fiercely independent. To the point of ridiculousness."

If it was anyone else, she might've been offended. But it wasn't anyone else. It was Rick. She laughed quietly. "I've been taking care of myself for a long time now, Rick."

"I know that. But you don't have to anymore. Not all the time."

Kate's heart did a somersault inside her chest. God, how did he do that? How did he make her more terrified and yet more sure than she'd ever been in her entire life? She bit her lip and stared at him. He stared back, still running his hand through her hair. "You know I'm trying really hard not to shut you out, right?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

He nodded. "I know."

Their eyes held for a moment longer, and then Kate lowered her head back down to his chest. She didn't say anything else, and neither did he. The room was silent, but Rick's heart was thudding purposefully in Kate's ear. She felt her eyes start to droop, the exhaustion of the day setting in. She didn't fight it. She was warm, comfortable, safe.

Taken care of.

X-X-X-X-X

"I didn't get a chance to catch you before you left yesterday," Anderson said as he appeared next to Kate's desk. It was ten o'clock the next day, and it had been pretty quiet all morning. No bodies, no kidnappings, no creepy notes or phone calls. Maybe Storm had given up.

Right. Fat chance.

"You were really impressive," he continued when Kate looked up from the papers she was looking over. "Thinking of the construction site and then finding Bradley in that hole."

Kate sat back in her chair, twirling her pen in her hand. "Thanks."

Anderson sat down in the chair next to her desk, Castle's chair, and Kate almost smiled. She was thinking about what Rick would do if he came back from buying them all doughnuts (after he made the appropriate cop-doughnut jokes, of course) to see Anderson in his chair. Anderson eyed her for a second, and Kate raised her eyebrows.

"Is there something else you need?"

He leaned back in the chair casually. "I think I owe you an apology."

"Oh? For what?"

"For the other night. Asking you out."

Kate smirked. "You're apologizing for asking me out?"

"Beckett! Beckett!"

Kate whipped her head around to look in the direction of the voice that had called her name. Ryan was sprinting toward her, waving something in his hand. She frowned at him. "What? Did you get your fantasy baseball scores?"

He slapped the folder in his hand down on her desk. "Very funny. No, I got something almost as good. I got you a suspect."

Kate was pretty sure her jaw was brushing the floor. "You got me a _what_?"

"Remember that dog collar we found at the second scene?"

"The one with the warehouse address for the third scene?"

"Yeah. The name on the tag was Samuel, remember?"

"I remember."

"Well I cross referenced that name with a list of all the construction employees that had access to the site. They faxed the list over to me this morning. Guess who I found?" He pointed at the paper on her desk.

"Samuel Morris," Kate read the folder, picking it up off the desk to get a closer look.

"He's worked for the construction company for a while, but before he did that he worked in a steel mill. He got fired. Guess who fired him?" Kate looked up at him expectantly. Ryan's grin was so huge she thought his face would get lost in it. "Jim Rhodes. Also known as the Daddy from that sick little family dinner."

The realization of what she was holding in her hands crashed into Kate like a freight train. Her body went rigid. This could be it. This could be Derrick Storm, the goddamn son of a bitch that had been haunting her for nearly a week. She threw the folder open and was greeted with a photo of Samuel Morris. He was older, maybe fifty or so. Salt and pepper hair, sunken face, pale skin. He certainly looked the part. Then again to her, everyone looked the part. It was a job requirement.

"Do you know him?" Anderson asked her.

Kate's heart sunk. "No. I don't." Shouldn't she know him? He knew so many things about her…Derrick Storm had to be someone she knew.

Right?

She looked up at Ryan. "Bring him in. Take Esposito."

Ryan was gone in a flash, and Kate was left alone with Anderson again. "You're sure you don't know him?" Anderson pressed.

"I'm sure. Unless I don't remember meeting him."

"Well either way, I think you should let me interrogate him."

Kate looked up at him. "Why?"

"This guy could be Derrick Storm, Beckett. And if he is, then he's obsessed with you. If we can deprive him of you, he might crack. He might talk in exchange for seeing you."

She didn't like the idea of being a bargaining chip, but she knew Anderson was right. It was their best shot. "Fine," she agreed. Castle suddenly appeared, holding a large box with the Dunkin' Donuts logo. He stared at Anderson, then looked at Kate with a pout.

"He's in my chair."

"What am I, your mother?" Kate teased. Castle raised his eyebrows and tapped the box in his hands. She knew her breakfast was waiting in that box for her, and God she was hungry. The reason Castle had offered to go out in the first place was because she was hungry. She turned her eyes to Anderson. "Can you give him his chair back, please?"

Anderson rose out of the chair, smirking at Kate, but she ignored him. Castle plunked into his chair smugly and then held out a bear claw for Kate.

"So. What did I miss?"

X-X-X-X-X

Kate watched from behind the glass as Anderson and Esposito interrogated Samuel Morris. Her heart was thumping, the excitement of possibly catching Derrick Storm making her pulse race, but something was off about it all. Samuel Morris hadn't even reacted when Anderson mentioned her name. He said he had no idea who she was and Kate, cursing herself heavily as she thought it, believed him.

Something definitely felt wrong. Something about Samuel Morris. He had the connection to the construction site, had the connection to their second crime scene, but the connections ended there. Kate honestly didn't think he was smart enough to be able to pull all of this off. Sneaking into a guarded warehouse and staging an elaborate crime scene…that took balls. Balls she didn't think Samuel Morris had.

Not to mention everything Derrick Storm knew about her. It had to be someone she knew. She'd been wracking her brain from the beginning, trying desperately to think of someone who knew all those things about her, was capable of such grisly murders, and hated her and Castle enough to do them. But she kept coming up empty. Samuel Morris certainly didn't fit into the equation. She'd never met him, and there was no way a construction worker had access to the kinds of things that Derrick Storm knew about her.

"What are you thinking?" Castle asked from next to her.

She looked at him. "I'm thinking this isn't the guy."

Castle stared at her. "Seriously?" Ryan piped up from the corner. "He's got a connection to two crime scenes."

"Maybe Storm did that on purpose," Kate reasoned with a shrug. "He's done everything else on purpose, why not this? Why not a false lead to give me false hope? Maybe he's distracting me from what I should really be looking at."

"Which would be what?" Rick asked gently. "What other leads do we have?"

"None. But there's got to be something…"

The door to the interrogation viewing room swung open. Montgomery was standing there, his eyes fixed on Beckett. "Storm's on the phone again," he said.

Kate shared a look with Rick, and then glanced at Ryan as she walked past. "You still think Samuel Morris is the guy?" Ryan muttered a curse under his breath. "Get the other two," she told him.

Rick followed her into the conference room, where Montgomery was waiting.

"You're recording and tracing?" she asked.

Montgomery nodded. "Yeah. Whenever you're ready."

Ryan appeared in the doorway, followed by Esposito and Anderson. Anderson met Kate's eyes. "Somehow I don't think I'm the only one who thinks Samuel Morris isn't our guy."

"It's not him," Kate agreed. "It's too easy."

"No way that guy has the brains to pull off any of this anyway," Esposito added. He nodded toward the speakerphone. "This guy's a genius. Sick bastard, but a genius."

Kate couldn't argue there. She sighed and reached for the button to pick up the call. She pressed the on button, and there was a click. "Derrick," she said coldly.

"Hello, Kate."

"Bradley sends his regards."

She couldn't resist the jab. Storm seemed to appreciate it; he laughed. "I have to tell you, Detective, I really didn't expect you to figure it out so quickly. I was prepared to drop at least two more hints."

"I guess you underestimated me."

"I'd rather underestimate than overestimate. The surprise is much more pleasant that way."

"Well, I'm always happy to please."

God, she sounded like a bitch. She didn't even care. She would've beaten the shit out of him if he was standing in front of her. Storm laughed again. She hated that he found her so amusing. "I wouldn't have hurt him you know," he said when his laughter died.

Kate shook her head even though Storm couldn't see it. "I don't believe you."

She saw Montgomery out of the corner of her eye motioning for Anderson. He jotted down an address and handed it to the agent, who flew out of the room quietly with his phone already to his ear. They'd gotten the trace. Maybe she could keep him on the phone long enough that they could get to him before he hung up and ran…

"I'm a lot of things, Kate," Storm said to her. "But I'm not a monster."

"I think I disagree with you there. Five people are dead. Because of you."

"No, Detective. Because of _you_."

Kate was suddenly incredibly aware of her heart pounding in her chest, pumping blood through her veins. She was alive. Those five people…they weren't. It wasn't her fault they were dead. She hadn't killed them. It was her fault, though, that Storm hadn't been caught yet. If she were a better cop, maybe there wouldn't have been so many people dead. Maybe it would've been just one instead of five. Maybe a little boy wouldn't have to go to therapy to deal with the trauma of being abducted by a serial killer.

She didn't know why her eyes moved to Rick. She saw the rage latent in his stare, saw him shake his head vigorously. She could hear his voice in her head, telling her it wasn't her fault, and a large part of her knew it too. She was a good cop, and she was doing the best she could with what little she had. But there was this little tiny part somewhere down deep, this nagging voice that she couldn't stifle.

_My fault._

"I didn't tell you to kill those people, Derrick. You did that on your own."

"That may be true, but it is your fault I keep killing. If you weren't so distracted, maybe you'd be doing your job a little better, Detective."

Oh holy fuck, she hated this guy. What right did he have, knowing her so well? She hadn't given him permission, she hadn't let him in. He had no right to invade her life like this…

"And what is it you think is distracting me, Derrick?"

"You know what. You've known. You knew when I called you about Bradley. Didn't you, Kate?"

Kate evaded the question. "What do you say we skip the games and get straight to the point? You tell me what you want, and I'll see if I can give it to you."

"It's too late, Kate."

Oh, Jesus. Kate's heart wrenched in her chest. Who had he killed now? Whose family was suffering now because she was the muse and girlfriend of a famous novelist that some crazy guy didn't like? Who had died because she hadn't been a good enough cop to stop Derrick Storm?

"I warned you. I warned you that the poison seeping into your life would destroy you. But you didn't listen. Now I have to teach you the hard way. Now I have to break you the hard way, so that I can remake you."

Kate met Montgomery's eyes, disbelief at the insanity of Derrick Storm clear in her gaze. The Captain's expression matched hers, and he shook his head at her. He didn't understand anymore than she did. Remake her? What the fuck was he going to remake her into?

"Who'd you kill, Derrick? Where?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "You'll find out soon enough. Just remember I'm doing this for you." Another pause, and then a click and a dial tone.

"God damn it!" Kate growled, turning away from the table and running a hand through her hair. What the hell was going on? God, she was sick of Derrick Storm. She just wanted it all to be over, she wanted to go back to normal killers who didn't know who she was and didn't play with her mind. Killers that killed one person for money or lust or revenge, not for some sick psychological game.

Her cell phone rang, and she reached for it blindly. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she answered it, trying to stave off the headache of frustration. "Beckett."

"Katherine Beckett?" a female voice on the other end of the line said.

Kate lowered her hand. "Speaking. Who is this?"

"This is Judy Crandall, I'm a nurse at Manhattan General. I'm afraid I have some bad news."

The spinning world around Kate came to a crashing halt, jerking her heart into stillness. Everything around her disappeared, everything and everyone, and she felt her entire body go numb. "What?"

"It's your father, Miss Beckett. An ambulance just brought him into the ER…"

X-X-X-X-X

Kate sprinted down the hallway of Manhattan General, her feet smacking on the tile floor. The bright fluorescent lights of the hospital were blinding, the walls pristinely white and covered in children's artwork, but Kate didn't notice. She didn't care. She saw the admit desk up ahead and pushed her body to go faster, but she was already running as fast as she could. She slammed into the counter, leaning over it, thrusting her face into the face of the nurse behind the desk.

"Jim Beckett," she demanded. She was panting a little. "The ER said you moved him up here for emergency surgery."

"Are you family?"

"Yes. Can I see him?"

"I need to see some identification-"

"He's my dad, god damn it!" Kate spat at her. She thrust her badge in the nurse's face. "How's that for identification?"

"Miss Beckett?"

Kate whirled around to see a man in scrubs and a lab coat standing behind her. He had a surgical mask on. Castle appeared next to Kate, panting from chasing after her. Esposito and Ryan weren't far behind…Montgomery must have been parking the car.

"Yes," Kate answered. "Detective Kate Beckett. My dad, Jim Beckett, is he here?"

"I'm Doctor Jackson. And yes, your father is here."  
Kate took an unconscious step toward him. Esposito and Ryan had arrived but stood respectfully back behind Rick, who was behind her. "How is he?" she demanded.

"We've got him in emergency surgery."

"I don't understand what happened. Did he get in an accident? The ER wouldn't tell me anything…"

The doctor shook his head. "He wasn't in an accident."

Kate was getting so goddamn sick of not getting a straight answer that she was two seconds away from pulling her gun. "Well, then what the hell happened?"

Jackson sighed and met her eyes meaningfully, and the dread that suddenly dominated Kate was sickening. She knew that look. It was the same look she got when she was delivering bad news. Kate tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it wouldn't go away. "We're not sure what happened," he answered. "Your father was at the grocery store when he collapsed."

"Collapsed? He's healthy…"

"It appears the root of the problem was sudden heart failure."

Kate stared at the doctor, the words tumbling through her mind. Heart failure? What? Her dad didn't have heart problems. They didn't even run in the family. What the…

"We found large amounts of a drug we haven't identified yet in your dad's system, so we had to pump his stomach before we could start operating on his heart…"

Unidentified drug? What? It didn't make sense. Her dad wasn't on medication, he was healthy, there was nothing to…

The realization smashed into her with an incredible force, stole the breath straight out of her lungs, and suddenly she felt like she was gasping.

Storm. He'd tried to kill her dad. Fucking Derrick Storm.

"Will he make it?" she interrupted. She felt the tears pricking her eyes, but she was not going to cry. Not yet. Not until…

Oh, God.

Jackson stopped, gazed at her sympathetically for a moment. "Your father's entire system shut down when his heart failed, Detective. We're trying to fix his heart, but even if he survives surgery, you could be looking at permanent damage."

The tears were stronger now, blurring her vision. She fought them like a mad woman and kept her eyes fixed on Jackson. "What are the chances he'll survive?"

Jackson shook his head. "That's impossible to predict-"

"Predict it anyway," she interrupted aggressively. "What are the _chances_?"

He exhaled slowly. "Less than ten percent."

A rush of air escaped Kate's mouth, half surprised gasp, half horrified sob. The tears started spilling out of her eyes and she squeezed them closed tightly. She shook her head. Please, no. Let it be a dream. Please, God, let it be a dream. She opened her eyes again.

It wasn't a dream.

_Less than ten percent._

She was going to lose her dad. Just like she lost her mom, she was going to lose her dad. And it was nobody's fault but her own. She should've known. Should've seen it coming from a mile away. So many times she'd said it to people, so many times she'd told victims' families that it wasn't their fault their loved ones had died.

But this _was_ her fault.

Oh, God.

Her knees buckled and suddenly Rick's hands were on her, steadying her. She reached out and grasped his arm weakly, the world around her suddenly spinning uncontrollably like those carnival rides she'd always hated as a kid. It wouldn't stop, it couldn't stop. She felt sick, she felt frail, she felt everything and somehow nothing too but most of all there was the sense of suddenly being…unalive.

Dead.

"Rick," she breathed.

His arms moved around her, pulled her toward him, and it was just in time. Her legs gave out beneath her and she clung desperately, devastatingly to him; he pressed her body against his and held her up. She buried her head in his shoulder, the tears falling wildly. A pained sob wracked her body, came tumbling out of her mouth.

And there, in the arms of Rick Castle in the middle of Manhattan General Hospital, Kate Beckett didn't just break.

She shattered.


	15. Flowers for a Ghost

_**The title of this chapter is a song of the same name by Thriving Ivory. Please give it a listen before, during, or after you read this – it's perfect. As always, your reviews are greatly appreciated. **_

Rick couldn't breathe. The woman who had collapsed into his arms a second ago consumed every thought, every feeling, and he was frantically trying to come to terms with it all.

Strong, collected, _invincible_ Kate Beckett, sobbing. In front of other people. Clinging to someone else, to him, for comfort. In front of other people.

Every shaking breath she took, every sob that spilled from her lips, every tear that soaked into his shirt broke a piece of him as much as a piece of her. This must be what it was like to love someone. To _really_ love someone. Not like his first two marriages. Not even like Kyra. This was something else. He would've given anything to save her, to take it on himself. Suddenly the cliché that you could feel someone's pain wasn't a cliché anymore. What right did Storm have, breaking her like this? Such an incredible woman, so much life and light and power, so much laughter that she hadn't found yet…what right did he have? What right did any of them have? The murderers that took little pieces of his Kate every time they did what they did…the first murderer, who had stolen so much from her, so much more than just her mother…what fucking right did they have?

He'd never been so furious. He'd never been so consumed with the desire to protect someone. Alexis, sure. But something of this intensity had never happened to her, thank God. No, right now there was only Kate. Someone was hunting Kate. And Rick knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would do whatever it took to fix this. Anything. Beyond holding her, beyond promising it would get better someday, beyond loving her, was something else. Sacrificing for her; he would do that. He'd sacrifice himself, even his life. But even beyond that…

He would kill for her. And kill was exactly what he would do if he got his hands on Derrick fucking Storm.

X-X-X-X-X

Jim Beckett's hospital room was small, bright, and disgustingly clean. Kate was standing next to the bed, staring down at her dad. Dr. Jackson had ushered everyone except Kate out of the room after he delivered the news, explaining that Kate needed some time alone with her dad. Kate hadn't objected, and she knew Rick had left only because she hadn't asked him to stay. Jackson's request didn't stop the boys from hovering outside the door though, and Kate had positioned herself with her back to the door so she wouldn't see them staring at her.

Her dad had made it out of surgery. Jackson called it a miracle, but Kate wasn't so sure. Because the man in front of her was _not_ her father.

His blood had been laced with a lethal combination of two powerful drugs that Kate couldn't remember the names of. Together, they attacked Jim Beckett's heart, sending him into heart failure and making him collapse. Heart failure was only the beginning; that's why her dad wasn't waking up. That's why they didn't know if he would ever wake up; his heart had been revived, but the damage to his brain stem had sent him straight into a coma.

She might never speak to him again.

She really should be grateful. They'd had that great dinner together, they'd gotten to say _I love you_, even with all their terrible baggage…most people didn't get that. She hadn't gotten to tell her mom she loved her one last time. But still.

It hurt to breathe. Every breath she took in reminded her that the only reason she was standing in this hospital, staring at the empty body of a man she didn't recognize, was because she hadn't done her job. Because she'd been so wrapped up in her life, her boyfriend's life, her boyfriend's _family_, that she'd forgotten her own.

How could you do that? Forget your own family, forget your father…not just as a daughter but as a goddamn cop? It was her job to hunt people like Storm, to stop them before they did things like this. It was her job to know his next move, and she'd failed. He'd outsmarted her. He'd beaten her.

And now here she was, staring down at the father she had put in a coma. Jesus Christ. Why had she been so stubborn? Why couldn't she read the writing on the wall, see that the longer she fought Storm the worse things would get? He'd infuriated the hell out of her, so much so that she'd wanted nothing more than to beat him at his own game. She'd been so consumed with proving to him that she couldn't be broken that she'd missed the most important clue of her life.

Her dad probably wasn't coming back. She didn't have a dad anymore. She was alone. At her age you weren't really considered an orphan, but fuck. She was an orphan now. She didn't have anyone.

As if on cue, as if he could read her mind, which sometimes she was convinced he could, Rick appeared next to her. After her emotional reaction earlier she hadn't said a word to anyone, not even to Jackson when he'd explained her dad's condition. She wasn't embarrassed by her breakdown. Maybe she would be later. But for now, she couldn't think about anything except how her dad didn't look like her dad. How she might never talk to him again.

How it was her fault.

"Kate," Rick whispered to her, his body hovering inches from hers.

She knew what he was asking. What he was giving her space to decide. She leaned toward him and brushed her shoulder against his chest.

It was all the acceptance he needed. He moved a step in front of her and slid his arms around her waist, their bodies just sideways enough that she could still see her dad while in Rick's arms. He didn't try to turn her away, he let her look, but his arms were around her as if to say _I'm here._

She knew that's exactly what he was saying. She could hear him in her mind saying it. He kissed her temple, and for some incredibly inexplicable reason she had the sudden urge to tell him that she loved him.

"Beckett."

Kate turned toward the doorway to see Montgomery standing there. He held up his cell phone. "It's him."

"No," Rick snarled, his arms tightening around her. "She's not talking to him."

"I understand your anger, Castle," Montgomery answered. "But it's Beckett's call-"

"What could he possibly have to say?" Rick demanded angrily. "What else could he take from her?" He turned to look at her. "Don't, Kate. Don't let him win."

Kate gazed up at Rick. She couldn't understand why her own emotions weren't running rampant. Maybe it was a coping mechanism, maybe she'd automatically turned off her emotions so she wouldn't feel the god awful pain that was searing itself permanently into every ounce of her blood.

"If I don't talk to him, he'll know he broke me. And I can't let that happen. I won't."

"You're strong, Kate. You can't break."

"I think I just did."

They stared at each other, and the sadness tingeing Rick's eyes nearly brought her to the point of dispelling the numbness. She stepped closer to him, and she didn't care if Montgomery saw.

"Either way, I have to do this."

He nodded. Kate moved away from him and headed slowly for Montgomery; Rick followed. She took the phone from the Captain's hand and walked out into the hall. She avoided Ryan and Esposito's eyes, because God she couldn't even go there right now.

She lifted the phone to her ear, but she didn't say anything. Her voice, the greeting, died on her lips as something took over. Being out of that room, not being able to see her dad anymore…it changed something. Suddenly she wasn't numb. She was…livid. Violently furious. This man on the other end of the line had tried to kill her father, had tried to take away the only parent she had left just as they were finally mending their relationship. God, she wanted to kill the bastard. She wanted…

She took a deep breath again. She had to say something. He wouldn't know she was there if she didn't say something. But she didn't want to talk to him. She hated him. _Hated_ him. She'd never hated anyone like this before. It was all-consuming, as if every beat of her heart sent hatred and not blood coursing through her veins.

She had to say something. She couldn't say his name. She hated his name, just like she hated every other goddamn thing about him.

"Hello."

On the other end of the line, Derrick Storm cleared his throat. "Hello, Kate."

The loathing surged again, mingling with disgust, making her eyes see red and her fingers itch to smooth over her Sig Sauer.

She said nothing in response. He let the silence fester for a moment, and then spoke again.

"I want you to know that I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted this."

Bullshit. Didn't want to hurt her? Didn't want to kill her father? Bullshit. He'd done it. He'd practically told her he would do it, all in the name of breaking her. Teaching her a lesson. She had a lesson she'd like to teach him, but it was a lot more violent than drugs. She'd do it with her bare hands.

"You don't believe me." It was more of a statement than a question.

"No."

He sighed. "If you'd just _listened_, Kate. If you hadn't been so stubborn-"

"Don't put this on me, you son of a bitch."

"And why not? Isn't it your fault?"

Christ, no. Not the tears. They stung her eyes, burned, and she struggled not to let them win. She would hold it together. She _would_. She wouldn't let him win.

"You broke your promise, you know," Derrick informed her.

"What promise?"

"The promise you made to yourself when your mother died. The one where you promised that you wouldn't lose your dad too."

It was just like their first phone conversation. Kate knew what was coming, knew where he was going, but she couldn't make herself strong enough not to feel his words cut her to the core. She had made that promise. She'd promised to take care of her dad because her mom wasn't around to do it anymore, promised she wouldn't let him drown in Jack Daniels or in loneliness.

"Isn't that why he stopped drinking? That's what he tells people, Kate. He tells people that he'll never forget the look in your eyes when you told him you wouldn't lose him too."

It was true. That's what her dad said. He'd told her that when he'd given her his watch, made his own promise to watch out for her the way he hadn't after her mom had died. The watch reminded her of him, of the moment when she'd finally snapped and looked her dad in the eye and told him she wasn't going to let him destroy himself. The rush of the past month with Castle had made her forget, but the memory of her dad's tone of voice when he told her he loved her after their dinner said that he hadn't.

"Look at him, Kate," Storm ordered softly. "His heart may still be beating, but you lost him. I never would've pegged you as someone who broke their promises."

She couldn't do it again, she couldn't break down, but she wasn't sure she could control it. Her throat was unbelievably tight. She couldn't breathe. She was suffocating.

"I'm going to interpret your silence as a daydream of putting handcuffs on me and ending all this."

Enough was enough, and Kate had had enough.

"Let me make something perfectly clear to you," she said. Her voice was quiet, calm but deadly. "When I find you, and I _will_ find you, I'm not going to cuff you. I'm not going to read you your rights and stick you in a cell and hope that the D.A. can find enough evidence to send your god forsaken ass to death row and end your miserable fucking life-" Her voice broke on the last words. She took a deep breath and forced herself to continue. "I'm going to kill you, Derrick. One way or another, I'm going to make sure you die. And _that's_ a promise."

This time she hung up on him. She turned back to her men, saw them all staring at her with wide eyes and open mouths. She held the phone out to Montgomery, and he took it automatically. She brushed past them all, even Rick, and re-entered the hospital room. The walls around her heart were falling into place again, re-establishing themselves with the energy of her fury and her desire to destroy the man who was trying to destroy her. She would do this. She would see this through, she would not be broken. There was no room for weakness now.

X-X-X-X-X

Mark stared at the phone, the dial tone buzzing so loudly he could hear it even when it was away from his ear.

She was breaking the rules. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to be hurt, yes, but her brokenness was supposed to erase her desire for revenge. She was supposed to understand. This wasn't his fault; it was Castle's. Castle was the one who had brought all of this on her. If she had just banished him from her life, if she'd just realized that the writer was poisoning her the same way her father had just been poisoned, then everything would have been okay.

Castle was destroying her. His beautiful, brilliant Kate Beckett…Castle was destroying her. Kate had told him that herself the last time he'd seen her; she'd said that Castle had damaged her. Why had she taken him back? Why did she keep taking him back? Why did she continue to share her work, her bed, her heart with him?

She wasn't following the plan. His masterful plan, months of planning, laid out so that he could save her. He was trying to save her, couldn't she see that? Couldn't she see that this was all for her own good? He'd reached out a hand, tried to help her up from the pit she was in, and how had she repaid him?

She'd spit in his face.

Fine. If she wanted to play hardball, he could play hardball. He could play hardball like she'd never experienced before. She wanted to be with Castle? Fine. Wanted to let him destroy her and her life? Fine. They thought they were happy together? They wanted to be together?

Fine.

Then they could fucking die together.

X-X-X-X-X

Rick was in the hallway outside of Jim Beckett's hospital room. Eight hours had passed since they'd first sprinted through the doors, since Kate had fallen into his arms. Ryan and Esposito had left a few hours ago; Bradley Vaughn had finished with the sketch artist, and they were taking the sketch to the grocery store Kate's dad had collapsed in to see if anyone recognized him. Lanie had come, stayed for a few hours, and then left. Anderson had come, but left with Ryan and Esposito to help with the search. Montgomery had stayed, and was sitting wordlessly down the hall staring at the wall.

And then there was Kate. Sitting motionlessly next to the bed, gazing at her dad with an impassive look on her face. Her hands turned the watch on her wrist slowly, then shifted up to grasp the ring around her neck, then went back down to the watch.

She wasn't Kate. He knew that. He could see it in the way she sat, the look on her face, the way she was breathing. She wasn't Kate. She wasn't Becks, she wasn't _love_, she wasn't even Detective Beckett.

Every minute she spent in that room, staring at her dad, was another minute she drifted farther away from him, farther away from herself. She couldn't fight Storm anymore. She was trying. God, she was trying. But she couldn't do it alone. She needed him, even if she didn't know it. She would fight him every step of the way, but he wouldn't let her disappear.

Castle saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head to see Montgomery walking toward him. Their eyes met, and then Rick looked back to Kate. Montgomery stopped next to him and turned his eyes to Kate as well. Silence reigned between them until Rick spoke.

"I have to get her out of here."

He was ready with a hundred explanations, with arguments for why Montgomery should help him get Kate out. He didn't need them.

Montgomery stared at his detective, heartbreak clear on his face. "I know." Rick looked at him, but the Captain kept his eyes on Kate. "She won't do it on her own."

"I know. But I don't-"

"Castle." Montgomery finally looked at the writer. "Get her out of here. I'll back you up." Rick swallowed. She would fight him. She would hate him. He knew it was what she needed, but it didn't make it any easier. He took a deep breath and started for the door. He paused in the doorway, his eyes settling on Kate. He walked toward her, stopped behind her chair, and put a hand gently on her shoulder. She flinched, and Rick knew it wasn't because he'd surprised her. His heart ached. She'd shut him out.

"Kate."

She didn't answer.

"Kate, it's time to go home."

Still no answer. Her shoulders tensed under his hand.

"Kate," he said again. His hand tightened on her shoulder. "I'm taking you home."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Her voice was like steel. Rick swallowed. He walked around to the front of her, crouched in front of the chair and put his hands on each of the armrests. "Look at me, Kate."

She didn't. She shook her head. "Don't do this, Rick."

"Don't make me carry you out of here, love."

She finally looked at him. Her eyes were cold, unfamiliar. "Don't touch me."

He fought the hurt, fought it with everything he had, but he could still feel it slicing into him. "I won't let him break you like this, Kate."

"I don't need you to fight my battles," she shot back. "You're not my knight in shining armor, Castle. You can't save me."

Christ, he couldn't. He was so painfully aware of that. But he wasn't useless, and he wasn't going to let her do this alone. "Let me help you," he begged.

"You can't."

"Detective Beckett."

It was Montgomery. His voice slammed into the room, slammed straight into Kate judging from the look on her face. It was the most authoritative voice Rick had ever heard.

"Get out of the chair."

She didn't move. Rick saw her eyes go glassy, saw the tears sitting just behind them. They didn't fall. "I'm not going, Roy."

"Get out of the chair, Kate."

Rick stared between the Captain and his detective. Montgomery's face was stony, determined, and Kate's was as expressionless as ever. She didn't move, didn't speak. Montgomery looked at Rick, then walked across the room toward Kate. "Castle," he said. And then he reached for Kate. Rick knew what he meant, and he stood up and reached for Kate too.

Their hands landed on her at the same instant, Roy's hand on her left arm and Rick's hand on her right, and yanked her up out of the chair and onto her feet. Kate wrenched away from them, twisting her body, and Rick let go. He couldn't take it. Montgomery didn't scare as easily. Rick watched in stunned surprise as the Captain stepped in front of his detective, capturing her by wrapping his arms around her in a sort of bear hug and pinning her arms to her sides. Kate struggled, fought against the hold, but Montgomery didn't let go.

"Castle's taking you home," Montgomery said to her. "You can't stay here. You can't do this." She didn't answer, still trying to wriggle free, her body twisting in the embrace. "They'll call if he wakes up," Montgomery continued. "Right now, you need to go home. You want to kill this guy, Kate? You can't do it in here."

Kate stopped struggling. After a long pause, Montgomery lowered his arms. Kate stood motionlessly for a moment, her eyes on the floor, then turned and walked out of the room. Rick stared after her. God, he couldn't take this.

"Castle." Rick looked at Montgomery. "You take care of our girl."

Rick took a deep breath. "Yes, sir."

X-X-X-X-X

The car ride back to the loft was silent. The elevator ride up to the loft was silent. Kate could feel Rick looking at her, but she refused to look back. She should be back in the hospital, next to her dad. The logic side of her brain knew she didn't help anyone by being there. She knew Rick and Montgomery had only done what they probably should have, what she would've wanted them to do if they'd asked her before all this happened.

When she entered the loft, she half expected to see Alexis come bounding down the stairs, ready for dinner and a movie marathon. She didn't. Kate wondered idly if Rick had called his daughter to warn her. She pushed the thought from her mind and slid her coat off, draped it over the couch.

"Are you hungry?"

Kate stilled at the sound of Rick's voice. God, he sounded so wounded. She knew she'd hurt him. But she couldn't do this with him. She couldn't be vulnerable the way he wanted her to; when she was, things like what she'd done at the hospital happened. She came apart at the seams. She could not, _absolutely _could not, afford to come apart at the seams. She had to keep it together. Not just because she was a detective, not just because she had to find Derrick Storm, but because she couldn't rely on anyone like that. She couldn't need someone like he wanted her to need him.

She ran her fingers over her coat, staring but not really seeing. "No."

"You haven't eaten all day. You should probably eat something."

She didn't want to fight with him. She didn't even want to open the door for conversation. "Fine."

She heard him exhale slowly. She hated that she was hurting him. "Do you want something in particular?"

What did she want? She wanted everything to go back to normal. She wanted to talk to her dad again, wanted to hear him tell her that he loved her. She wanted to have laughter ridden sex with Rick on his kitchen counter, wanted to have incredibly serious sex with Rick in the bed that wasn't just his anymore but was theirs. She wanted to have movie marathons with the teenager that she'd already started to think of as her responsibility. She wanted to stop feeling like it was her fault that five people were dead, that a little boy had been kidnapped, that her father was in a coma.

Most of all, she just wanted to breathe without feeling like the world was sitting on her chest.

She felt like something was coating her skin, a slimy film of guilt. Just like after she'd fought the paparazzi crowd, she had to get the feeling of hopelessness off of her body.

"I don't care," she whispered. She headed for the stairs, wanting to shower, needing to shower. She climbed the steps, started peeling her clothes off as soon as she got into Rick's room. Shoes and socks first, tossed carelessly aside. Her shirt dropped to the floor, and she shucked her pants in the doorway of the bathroom. The last of her clothes puddled just inside the bathroom, and she turned the showerhead on as high as it went. It was hot instantly.

She stepped in and lifted her face to let the water hit it. It ran in rivulets down her body, over the goose bumps that had conquered her skin. She ran her hands over herself, wiping away the layer of emotion. It wouldn't come off. She rubbed harder, her eyes shut tightly.

_Please come off. Please make it stop_.

A pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, enveloping her. Kate wanted to fight them away, wanted to pull away, but she couldn't. They held her tighter, and she felt his body against her back. He still had his clothes on. The water pounded around her, and her shoulders dropped with the weight of the emotion she couldn't wash away. She felt his mouth by her ear, breathing. "Don't shut me out."

A rush of air escaped her lips as her chest tightened. The feeling spreading over her wasn't the same as it had been at the hospital; it wasn't as violent. This was more of an aftershock, the ripples spreading away from the impact, a sort of exhausted collapse of realization and resignation.

Rick kissed her neck beneath her ear. "You're not alone."

"I am," she whispered, her breathing heavy, shuddering.

"No. Not alone, love."

The pain ripped through her chest as he turned her around gently to face him, cradling her head to his chest. She clung to him. The water had drenched him and his clothes, but she knew he didn't care. It hurt like hell, letting the numbness ebb away enough to let the pain out for Rick to take in. But something about him, standing in the shower and holding her naked against his fully clothed body, made the words slip from her mouth.

"I can't get it off," she whispered. "It won't wash off."

Rick's hands started moving, passing over her skin in tender circles as if cleaning her. "I'll wash it off," he whispered back. "I'll wash it off."


	16. Shatter

_**Huge thanks to the group that is helping to make this story what it is (especially in regards to this chapter, which I had such a terrible time with). Here's to Tuesdays and rants about mullets and fabulous coats.**_

_**In other news, thanks to all of you who have been reviewing. It is greatly appreciated. I'm sorry so many of you seem to be crying :( Enjoy this chapter and try not to cry again, k? **_

Montgomery showed up at Rick's loft the next morning with Anderson, Esposito, Ryan, and another FBI agent in tow.

Rick was the one who answered the door, having left Kate sitting at the kitchen counter with her fingers curled around a mug of coffee. She wasn't in a single piece of her own clothing; the baggy black Nike shorts, the oversized hooded sweatshirt, and the National Writer's Convention t-shirt underneath all belonged to him. He'd brought them to her last night, after he'd wrapped her in one of his fluffy white towels and guided her into his bedroom.

She'd been sleeping restlessly, but around three in the morning she drifted back to consciousness. Her back was facing him and Rick had curled himself around her, propped up on his right elbow so he could see her face, his hand trailing over her arm while she slept. Now that she was awake, she turned her head to look at him. He smiled down at her.

"On a scale of one to ten, how creeped out are you that I'm watching you sleep?"

"Eleven," she murmured.

She turned her head away again, but she didn't go back to sleep. Rick fought against the urge to ask her right away how she was. He didn't want her to shut him out again, because he had a feeling that if she did he might not get back in. After a long pause, he ventured the question as simply as possible.

"How are you?"

She didn't answer right away, and Rick felt the seconds drag on. "Numb," she finally whispered.

"Are you scared?"

"Terrified."

"Of?"

"Losing him. That it's my fault."

"Kate…"

Silence cascaded over the room, and Kate closed her eyes. Rick stared down at her, frozen in his uncertainty of what to do. "Tell me it isn't my fault," she whispered.

He put his mouth by her ear, his body still curled around hers. "It's not your fault."

Suddenly she pushed against his chest with her shoulder, sending him far enough away that she could roll onto her back, and for a second Rick thought he'd done something wrong. Kate reached for him and tugged him closer by grabbing a fistful of his shirt. She pressed her lips to his when he was close enough, and Rick just went with it. Maybe he'd done it right after all.

Things got out of hand incredibly fast. Kate's kisses were shallow and quick, desperate in a way that was so very unlike her. Somehow Rick found himself on his back, staring up at her straddling him, and for the brief moment she let her eyes meet his, Rick wondered why she seemed to be more interested in his reactions than in her own feelings.

Kate shifted on top of him, moving backward so that she was sitting between his knees instead. When her fingers closed around the waistband of his shorts and her head dipped down, he realized with a horrified start what she was about to do.

"Kate," he said sharply, lunging forward to grab her face in both of his hands. She looked up at him, and he shook his head. Something indefinable chased across her expression, and it suddenly hit him that everything he'd washed away was enveloping her again. He grabbed her shoulders and tugged, bringing her up to lay on top of him.

"Not like this," he told her.

She nuzzled the side of his cheek. "Please," she whispered in his ear. "Please, Rick."

"You would hate me in the morning."

"No." She leaned away from him, looked him in the eye. "I need to feel alive. Can you understand that? I need to know that my heart is still beating, I need to know that I can still feel something besides _this_…"

The indefinable something shivered across Kate's face again, but this time Rick understood it. She didn't know how to need someone. The fact that she was trying to let herself need him wasn't lost on him, and neither was the way his fingers on her skin seemed to spark life in her eyes.

"Okay," he murmured. He rolled them over so he was on top of her. He wasn't going to let this be about him. It was about her. "Tell me what you need me to do."

She lifted her hand to his face, trailing her fingers over his cheek. "I need you to love me."

So he did.

Now he was letting her boss and her colleagues into his loft, and he hated that he couldn't keep reality away a little longer for her. She wasn't ready to be Detective Beckett again. She needed more time.

Rick walked around the group of men that lingered in the entranceway and led them toward the kitchen. He was moving back to Kate's side when Montgomery spoke.

"Beckett."

Kate looked up from her coffee and turned around in her chair. Rick stopped next to her, draping his arm across the counter behind her and stepping close enough that she was in the circle of his arm without actually touching her. He directed his attention back to the group he'd just let in. Ryan and Esposito were standing behind the Captain shyly, sending painfully sympathetic looks at Kate, as if they were afraid of looking at her the wrong way. Anderson and his agent looked out of place, awkward. Rick remembered that Kate was wearing his clothes and looked down at her, wondering if she would realize how obvious it made the status of their relationship. If she did realize it, she didn't seem to care.

"Captain," she greeted.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Her tone contradicted her words, and Rick wondered if Montgomery caught on. The Captain held up a copy of _Heat Wave_, and Rick realized for the first time that he had latex gloves on. "This was delivered to your desk at the precinct this morning."

Kate made no move to get up and reach for the book. "Is there a note?"

"No. Just a bookmark." Montgomery held up the cover of the _Daily News_, the picture of Rick in his boxers making out with a half-dressed Kate. It was folded down the center, making it small enough to be a bookmark.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that was marking page 105," Kate said.

Rick looked at her in surprise. "How did you know?"

She shook her head. "I don't think Storm's trying to save me anymore."

Anderson stepped forward. "I think you're right. What he did to your dad…it wasn't like the other stuff. It was a punishment. His earlier stuff, the first five murders, even the kidnapping, they were just attempts to get your attention. He wanted to scare you into kicking Castle out of your life."

"And when I didn't, he got mad," Kate finished. "So he went after someone closer to home."

"Exactly. It was a punishment for ignoring what he wanted, but it was also a last ditch effort. He probably figured that you would hit your breaking point and get rid of Castle."

"Instead I threatened him."

Anderson nodded. "Montgomery told me about the conversation. Storm isn't just insane, he's fixated. You're his obsession. Telling him you wanted to destroy him probably broke him. He feels betrayed."

Silence conquered the loft as every man in the room stared at Kate and Kate stared down into her coffee.

"I don't understand," Rick murmured. "He's coming after Kate now?"

"Not just Kate," Anderson corrected.

"Alexis," Rick breathed, his stomach wrenching violently. Kate whipped her head up to look at him, and judging by the look on her face, the same thought had occurred to her. Something took over her expression, something even worse than he'd seen in the darkness of his bedroom last night.

"We've got uniforms and agents already at her school," Anderson answered. "She's safe. We're just waiting for your word, and then we'll pull her out. Send her anywhere you want."

"Her mother's in California."

Anderson looked at the other agent. "Make the call. Bring her back here first, let her see her dad and pack her stuff, and then she's on a plane."

"Alone?" Rick asked.

Anderson shook his head. "Of course not."

Gratitude washed over Rick, but there was no relief. Not until Storm was dead or behind bars. "Thank you."

Anderson nodded at his agent. The agent turned away, lifted the phone to his ear, and Kate spoke next. "I'm not going to sit around and wait for him to come after us."

"That's the other thing we need to talk about," Anderson sighed. "I spoke with Dr. Graham, one of the Bureau's profilers."

"Does he know who Storm could be?" Kate demanded. Rick could hear the almost indiscernible lift in her voice.

"No. Actually…he's worried about you."

Rick looked down at Kate in time to see her eyes narrow. Her look didn't have anywhere near the intensity he'd seen radiate from her before, and he knew it was because she was running on fumes. Regardless, it was enough to make Anderson shift back and forth from foot to foot.

"Worried about me?" Kate repeated. "What does that mean?"

"He's seen serial killers fixate on cops before. For the cop, it's highly stressful and frustrating. Even the best tend to crack." Rick winced at that. Even an unusually fragile Kate Beckett was bound to take offense at the insinuation that she could crack. "In light of yesterday's events, Dr. Graham's professional recommendation is that you take a few days off from the investigation. Just as a precaution."

"A precaution for what?"

"Your mental health."

Rick waited for the glare and the snarky response, but it didn't come. He stared down at Kate in wonder, watched as something flickered in her eyes. At last, she shook her head. "I can't do that."

"You know this isn't really your choice, Detective," Montgomery interjected. "If I say I want you to take a few days to yourself to regroup, then you're going to do it."

"He's not going to stop," Kate countered, shaking her head again. "Even if you force me to take a few days off, he won't stop. He'll find me."

"Not if he thinks we're setting him up," Anderson amended. "We're thinking about getting you and Castle out of the city. Take a few days, regroup, and then come back to the case with a fresh, rested perspective."

"If he thinks it's a set up and that we're trying to bait him, he won't come anywhere near you," Montgomery clarified.

Rick had been sold back when Anderson had first mentioned Kate taking a few days off, but now that Anderson and Montgomery had laid out their entire plan, he was even more eager for Kate to agree. She needed this. The problem was that Kate was an expert at ignoring her own needs in exchange for the needs of whatever case she was working on.

Rick watched Kate exhale slowly, and when she looked up at him he knew that she really was hanging on by a thread to whatever balance she had left. "I think you should," he murmured without waiting for her to ask. She stared at him for a long moment, and when she looked back down into her coffee mug, Rick knew what she'd decided. He looked at Montgomery and Anderson.

"I've got a house in the Hamptons. We'll go there."

X-X-X-X-X

"You domesticated me."

Rick looked down at Kate, his eyebrows raised. "I what?"

"You domesticated me," Kate said again. "I just cooked dinner in a goddamn apron."

"You looked cute."

"We washed the dishes together."

"It was a bonding experience."

"I'm in a mansion in the Hamptons."

"You needed a break."

Kate sighed. She felt like she was in a different world. Yesterday she'd spent the day in the hospital, living one of the most emotionally painful days of her life. And today...this morning she'd been drinking coffee in Rick's sweats and now she was lying on the floor of his massive library in his mansion in the Hamptons.

It was the kind of library that made her feel like she'd died and gone to heaven. The room was two stories high, and had an arched ceiling with glass panes that showed off the stars hovering over Long Island. Huge wooden bookshelves lined the walls, and there was even one of those ladders that moved along the shelves. It was exactly the kind of library she expected a writer to have.

An immense stone fireplace dominated one end of the room, and Rick had even started a fire. The hardwood floor was flawless, but she and Rick were on the large, incredibly comfortable rug in front of the fire. Rick had his back resting against an overstuffed armchair, and Kate had her head on his thigh and was staring up at him. Rick started to trail his hand through her hair.

"You domesticated me," she said again.

"Was it as awful as you thought it would be?"

Kate thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. "No."

"You never wanted to be domesticated?"

"I did. Before my mom died." She licked her lips, looked through the glass ceiling at the stars. "But after…not really."

"And now?"

"I don't know."

His hand stopped moving. "You know I would never try to change you, right? I wouldn't make you do the Hamptons or the charity balls or the red carpet. I didn't fall for a Stepford wife or arm candy; I fell for Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD." He said her title with a smile. "I fell for who you are, Kate. Not who I could make you."

Whoa. Her heart was thudding in her chest, warming her body as something seeped through her skin and into her bloodstream, and Kate swallowed. Holy hell. This was it, wasn't it? _He_ was it. The one and done. Oh, God. So this is what this felt like.

She pushed herself into a sitting position, leaned in toward him. "I think when this is all over, I might be scared again." She was playing with the part of his shirt above the top button, where it spread to reveal his collarbone.

Rick smiled gently at her. "Scared of what?"

She swallowed again. "You."

"Why?"

"It's easy now," she explained with a lift of her shoulder. "You're holding me together. But what about when it's over? What about when I'm holding myself again?"

"I'll still be here."

"You sure?"

He grinned, lifted his hand. "Pinky promise." She rolled her eyes, but her smile was undeniable. She linked her pinky with his. "I told you," he murmured, lowering his lips to hers. "Once you start, you can't stop."

"You talking about pinky promises?" she murmured back. "Or you talking about something else?"

He smiled just before his lips collided with hers. "That's up to you, love."

X-X-X-X-X

Mark wasn't in the Hamptons.

Oh, he knew Kate was. Knew she was with Castle at his ostentatious mansion, knew they were probably going at it right now because she was too blind to see that's all the writer had ever wanted from her. But Mark wasn't there.

He'd smelled a set up from a mile away. Kate was smart. Too smart. She had to have known what effect her words would have on him. She had to know that spitting in his face would make him question whether she was worth saving. She knew the game had been taken to a new level, and the Hampton mansion getaway was her first move.

He didn't want them both. Not right away. He certainly didn't want Kate first. He wanted to draw it out, wanted to make her feel a small part of the agony she'd been causing him. The insatiable desire to save someone you cared about more than anything in the world. He would make her feel his pain.

And then he'd cause even more.

Mark stepped back, surveying the wall in front of him. Soon she would figure it out; soon she would realize who he was. By then it would be too late. He would have already struck again. She'd do her detective work anyway, and it would bring her here. She'd find his mural, realize how much he loved her.

Mark leaned forward and tacked the last picture into place. The space in front of him was covered in pictures of his Kate. Pictures she hadn't known were being taken. Leaving her apartment for work, then coming back after work; working a crime scene with those detectives that worked for her, Ryan and Esposito; eating out with that M.E. she was friends with, Dr. Lanie Parish. Nowhere in the mural was there a picture of Rick Castle. Nowhere except in the picture he had just hung up.

It was the cover of the _Daily News_, the photo he'd sent in. He hated that goddamn picture, hated Kate pressed in close to the fucking writer, but it had to be that way.

Besides, it would all be better soon enough.

X-X-X-X-X

Kate and Rick were barely through the door of Rick's loft when the telephone rang. Kate pulled the door closed behind her and bolted it shut, listening to Rick's quick steps across the loft and then his friendly "Hello?"

When she turned around she realized he'd been staring at her ass, and she arched an eyebrow at him. He grinned, the phone still pressed to his ear. "What kind of package?" he asked.

The smirk dropped off of Kate's face instantly, and she closed the distance between her and Rick. "Who is it?"

Rick covered the end of the phone. "Hank, my doorman. They've got a package from my publisher."

"No," she said forcefully. Rick lifted his eyebrows in question. "It could be Storm. Anderson's men should look at it first."

Anderson and Montgomery had handpicked a team of agents to serve as bodyguards for her and Rick until Storm was caught. Kate wasn't exactly crazy about the idea of having a security entourage, but she hadn't had a choice. Montgomery seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

"Oh, okay. Yeah, that makes sense," Rick said into the phone. Kate gave him a look and he covered the receiver again. "He said they already went through the package. It's Nikki Heat stuff."

"Why can't they bring it up?"

"The courier from the publisher is waiting. I have to sign for it, and they don't want to let the courier up here."

Kate wasn't convinced, and Rick snaked his arm around her waist as he finished his conversation. "Yeah, I'll be down in a minute. Uh-huh. See you soon."

Rick hung up the phone, set it down on the counter, and then wrapped his other arm around Kate's waist too. "It's okay. Hank said they checked it out."

Kate looked up at him doubtfully. "Were you expecting stuff from your publisher?"

"I'm always expecting stuff from my publisher. Especially considering Nikki Heat's popularity."

Kate was still unconvinced, and Rick read it in her expression. "Its fine, Kate. There's like fifty agents crawling around downstairs. You want to come too? Would that make you feel better?"

Kate thought about it for a moment, but shook her head. "No. You're right, Anderson's got agents all over the place."

Rick smiled down at her. "I'll be back up in two minutes. Then we can have ice cream and play strip poker."

He waggled his eyebrows at her, and Kate pulled out of his embrace with a roll of her eyes. "Go get your package, Rick."

He chuckled. "That sounds-"

"Don't," she interrupted. She knew exactly where he was headed. She couldn't stop her smile though. "Just hurry up."

"Yes ma'am."

He gave her a quick kiss and then left the loft. Kate locked the door behind him and then collapsed onto the couch. She stared up at the ceiling, replaying her two days in the Hamptons in her head. She'd read books in the overstuffed armchair of Rick's library; played hours of Monopoly and poker and even video games (which she was, much to Castle's surprise, actually quite good at); she'd slept in, eaten exceptionally well, and dozed on top of Rick while he read the paper. It had been an extraordinary escape. For two whole days, everything had faded away. Derrick Storm, the dead bodies, Bradley Vaughn. Her dad hadn't completely faded, but she'd learn to breathe normally again at least. She couldn't say that she was whole or anything; she'd probably never be whole. But she was close enough. Ready to get back to work the next day and find that sick son of a bitch.

Kate was contemplating calling Alexis to check in and say hi when her phone rang. She held it up and read the caller ID: _Rick_. She smiled and answered it.

"Miss me already?" she teased.

"I'm sure he does."

Kate bolted upright, her mouth hanging open in horror. A terrifying blackness started to fuzz the edges of her existence. She would've known that voice anywhere. Once or twice that weekend she'd even had nightmares about it. Then, Rick had been there to calm her down.

He wasn't here now.

"You can tell Agent Anderson he's got a dead agent in the janitor's closet on your floor. And that he should've checked the custodial staff a little better. Maybe then your boyfriend wouldn't be unconscious in a garbage can in the back of a van."

Kate was struggling to breathe. This could not be happening. Please God, no.

"What did you do?"

"Don't worry. He's not dead. Yet."

"Let him go."

Storm laughed. "Come on, Kate. You know I can't do that."

"I'll do anything you want."

"I know. That's why I had to take him." Kate felt her throat tightening. She shouldn't have let him go. Why had she let him go? She knew there was something wrong; why'd she let herself be talked out of it?

"Do you see why I was trying to save you, Kate? You think if you weren't sleeping with him that you ever would've let him out of your sight, knowing I was waiting? He made you soft. He made you a bad cop."

Oh dear God, he had. She had one job, and that was to protect herself and Rick from Derrick Storm. She'd failed. It hit her suddenly that she hadn't just handed Rick over to Derrick Storm; she'd given Alexis to him too. This would destroy Alexis.

"I'm not going to kill him. Not yet. He's of no use to me dead. I want you to find him first."

Kate said nothing, so Storm spoke again.

"Find him, Kate. Find him and maybe you'll get your chance at me."

The line went dead. Kate couldn't move the phone away from her ear. She kept waiting for Rick to get on, for him to laugh and say _Gotcha!_ The phone was silent.

She could lose Rick.

Oh, God.

Her fingers started dialing numbly. Each breath was a shudder, a weakening force. She lifted the phone to her ear, and it rang twice.

"Montgomery."

"Sir," she croaked. Her voice broke.

"Beckett." She could hear the urgency in his voice. "What is it? I'm on the way, what is it?"

She closed her eyes. "It's Rick. Storm…he's got him. Storm has Rick."


	17. Inferno

Captain Roy Montgomery was a firm believer in fairness. In fact, he prided himself on his ability to be completely fair, completely impartial, in all of his professional decisions. He did _not_ have favorites, and no one who knew him would accuse him of having one.

Problem was he did have a favorite.

Kate Beckett.

It was impossible for him to define why, though he knew professional admiration certainly helped. Most certainly Beckett was his best detective. She was relentless, brilliant. She looked deeper where others gave up, and she was rewarded heavily for it. A stunning arrest record, a conviction record to match; her reputation preceded her in most circles of the New York justice system. Her fondness for the weird, difficult cases only increased the "cool factor" that Beckett undeniably had and that so many other detectives seemed to want.

And there was Nikki Heat, of course. Esposito and Ryan's incessant mockery of their boss' status as a writer's muse and immensely popular fictional character was matched in teasing by dozens of others. Beckett inspired respect, of course, and loyalty; the teasing was always affectionate. Not even the most heavily armed cop dared harass Beckett more than once or twice in a week. But despite the jokes, there was an irrefutable tinge of envy. If he'd still been a detective Roy himself might've been jealous, and he wasn't even a hardcore Castle fan. Beckett's talent and brains had set her on the road to becoming a department legend; Nikki Heat had cemented her status.

But it wasn't just professional. Professional pride in one of his employees was not what had kept Roy Montgomery at Manhattan General Hospital for nine straight hours. Professional admiration was not what made him arrest over thirty reporters and photographers on a simple loitering charge. And it certainly wasn't what had him in a famous novelist's loft at eight o'clock on a Sunday night, feeling like an overprotective parent.

Roy watched Beckett answering Anderson's questions, the way her glassy eyes stared at nothing and her hands sat in her lap lifelessly. It was the same person he'd seen at the hospital, the same person he'd watched Castle coax back into life.

Except there was no Castle this time. That was the problem. Roy was watching Kate Beckett slip through the cracks of real existence. There was no emotion in her eyes, no life. He'd seen her do this before, distance herself emotionally from something. He knew her type, because he was one; cops that hated to get emotional on the job because it made them weaker, vulnerable, less Super Cop and more human. Kate Beckett was trying desperately to hang on to Super Cop, and as Roy watched her struggle and fail, he also struggled and failed.

This was why you weren't supposed to have favorites.

"Anderson," he said, low enough that it wouldn't startle Beckett but loud enough so that he could be heard. Beckett's eyes lifted, met his emotionlessly. "Maybe we could finish tomorrow?"

Anderson's eyes flitted back to Beckett. "Oh. Of course."

Beckett's gaze dropped down to her hands. Silence dominated for a moment, and then Anderson reached out and covered Beckett's hands with one of his own. She looked up. "I'm sorry, Beckett," he whispered. "I promise you I'll do everything I can. We'll find him."

Nothing changed on Beckett's face. She swallowed, nodded, and then pulled her hands out from under Anderson's and stood up. She made her way into the kitchen, where Ryan and Esposito were sitting on barstools at the counter. Roy watched her open the fridge and get out a bottle of water.

"Is she going to be okay?" Anderson asked quietly.

Roy looked at Anderson. "Beckett's a fighter."

Beckett _was_ a fighter. If anyone was a fighter, it was her. But this…God. Who could handle this much? And she didn't even have a goddamn villain to fixate on. All she knew was his name, which wasn't even his real name. He knew it was driving her crazy, knew she felt like it was her fault. Guilt didn't help matters, and it was radiating off of Beckett in waves. It wasn't her fault. Storm had outsmarted all of them; hidden in the janitor's closet on Castle's floor and then surprised and killed the agent responsible for guarding the entrance to the loft; bashed Castle in the back of the head and shoved him in a custodial trashcan, then wheeled him down the maintenance elevator, out the back, and into an unmarked white van. Anderson's men hadn't thought twice about a custodian with a big trashcan. No one had.

"Yeah," Anderson said, casting a sympathetic look at Beckett. "But she's been through a lot."

"Yes, she has. So what do you say we find this son of a bitch and give her a break?"

Anderson nodded, a faint smile appearing on his lips. "Yes, sir. I'll meet you back here tomorrow?"

"No. She'll want to be at the precinct."

"Okay." He sent one more look in Beckett's direction, and then he showed himself to the door. Roy watched him go. He was a good agent, a good guy. Possibly had a crush on Beckett. Roy didn't claim to be an expert on romance. Guns, yes. Romance? Yeah right. But he'd seen Beckett and Castle coming from a mile away…and that's how Anderson looked at Beckett. That's how Sorenson looked at her too.

Thank God she wasn't his daughter.

Beckett came back to sit on the couch again, clutching the water. She fixed her eyes on Roy. "Thanks for coming." Her brow furrowed and she looked down at her hands.

"No problem."

Beckett didn't look at him. She just swallowed and nodded. "Anyway, I won't keep you. I'm sure you'd like to get home."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere."

Her head whipped up, the first remnants of emotion he'd seen since he arrived flashing in her gaze. "What?"

"Martha is on tour, correct?" She nodded. "And Alexis is in California?" She nodded again. "I'm not leaving you alone, Beckett."

"Sir, I can take care of myself-"

"I never said you couldn't. But I'm not leaving."

"Neither are we," Esposito said, appearing next to the couch and staring down at Beckett. Beckett looked up at him, her brow furrowed again.

"Guys…"

"I call the couch," Esposito interrupted.

"No way," Roy argued. "I'm the Captain, I get the couch. You two can duke it out over the chair."

Silence reigned, and Roy waited for another argument. After an eternity, Beckett sighed. "There's extra bedrooms, you know."

X-X-X-X-X

Rick woke up and instantly wished he hadn't.

Holy hell. The back of his skull was throbbing painfully, and it felt like it weighed a million pounds. He knew his head was lolling but it was such a goddamn struggle to lift it up. He finally did, only to realize his vision was blurry. What the fuck. This must be what it was like for people that couldn't see without glasses. Kinda nauseating…

His head dropped again and he realized he was sitting. Not by choice, apparently. His arms were duct taped in place around the armrests of the chair, and his legs were taped too. He leaned forward, only to realize there was a shining silver strip of duct tape around his chest as well, holding him to the chair. Hmm. Déjà vu. Maybe he'd had a dream about this once…

Whoa. His brain was working a little more clearly now. Duct taped. To a chair. Kate wasn't the bondage type. Kidnapped! He had to be kidnapped. Damn, his head hurt. He lifted it again anyway, and squinted at his surroundings.

They looked familiar. Ouch. Definitely not a cold, dark cellar, which was where he'd always expected he would be if he was kidnapped. Kidnapped by who? Whom? Who? Whatever. Someone with an obsession for duct tape…

Did Kate like duct tape? Who liked duct tape?

Kate.

Oh, fuck.

Suddenly everything was clear, not just his vision but his brain too. He'd been going downstairs to get a package from his publisher. He remembered thinking it was odd that the agent who had been patrolling his hallway when he and Kate had entered his loft a few minutes before was nowhere to be found. It hadn't quite registered though; he was thinking about Kate. He was a few feet away from the elevator when everything went black.

Rick looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was…Jesus Christ. He was in his house at the Hamptons. In his library. The same library where he'd been with Kate only hours before.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

Rick froze. He knew that voice. Oh Jesus Christ, he knew that voice. It was coming from behind him, and he couldn't turn his body or his head to look. He waited, strained to hear the footsteps falling on the floor, and then suddenly right in front of him was Derrick Storm, gun in hand.

"Hello, Castle."

Rick cleared his throat. "Derrick Storm, I assume?"

Derrick Storm smiled. "Smart. Are you scared?"

"No. I'm here, Kate's not. That's good enough for me."

Rick couldn't read the expression on his kidnapper's face, but he knew it wasn't good. The tightening of the jaw, the narrowing of the eyes…oh, boy.

"Don't pretend you love her."

"I'm not pretending."

In a flash Storm whipped the Glock across Rick's jaw. Rick groaned, tasting blood instantly. He moved his jaw and felt the pain racing through his system like a shock wave. He looked back up just in time for Storm to lean down eye level and glare.

"I promised her I wouldn't kill you," he spat. "So for now, writer boy, you're safe." He straightened. "But that doesn't mean we can't have a bit of fun."

X-X-X-X-X

It was one in the morning, and Kate was in the shower.

She was pretty sure she'd passed the line of pathetic a while ago, when she'd brought an entire bottle of Pinot Noir into the shower with her. But somehow, she couldn't bring herself to care. She couldn't move from her position leaning against the tile. The bottle of Pinot Noir hung limply in her right hand, brushing against her leg. The showerhead, one of those ridiculously expensive ones, was pulsating water down on her chest in a frenzied, desperate sort of way, pelting her naked body with a million tiny knife pricks that she felt much deeper than her skin.

She lifted the bottle to her lips, tipping it back for another swig of the wine that reminded her of Rick. The wine they drank right before their first night together. The shower where they had incredibly intense, usually playful, always slightly dangerous hot shower sex. The shower where he'd stood fully clothed and washed her body, every inch of it, until she could finally breathe again.

Yes, she was pathetic. Possibly masochistic. Really, she should be avoiding things that reminded her of Rick Castle. The logical half of her knew that. Detective Beckett knew that. Somewhere inside, the detective was shaking her head, sighing, muttering about being one of _those_ women. Somewhere inside too was a little girl huddled in the corner, hugging herself, wishing she had her mother to run too.

And then there was Kate. What was left of her anyway. Derrick Storm deserved a toast. Fucking bastard. Congratulations. She was broken. Stupid son of a bitch. If he was really as smart as he thought he was, he would've realized that she'd always been broken. All he was doing was crunching the pieces under his feet.

She took a deep breath. The water was turning cold. That said a lot about how long she'd been in here, given the fact that this was an extremely high class building and the tenants paid obnoxious amounts of money for things like always having hot water. She twisted the knobs to turn the water off, then climbed out of the shower with the bottle of wine still in her hand. She dried off; pulled on some of Rick's clothes. She grabbed her phone before she headed downstairs, just in case Alexis called again.

How long had she been on the phone with Alexis earlier? Hours, probably. Kate had been sprawled out on Rick's bed for hours talking to Alexis, listening to Alexis, crying with Alexis. Well, Alexis didn't know Kate was crying. That couldn't happen. But the teenager had certainly cried, and Kate had let some tears trail down her face too. Especially when Alexis said that if anyone could save her dad, it was Kate.

No pressure or anything.

Kate padded down the stairs, still clutching the wine. Esposito was sleeping in the guest room, because he'd won the rock paper scissors match that had sent Ryan reluctantly to Martha's room for the night. They'd both deemed staying in Alexis's room as "creepy and weird". Montgomery had been unwavering on his fondness for the couch.

Speaking of which, Kate could see the Captain under a mountain of blankets as she came to the bottom of the stairs. If she'd had even a semblance of a smile in her system, it would've come out as she passed him on the way to Rick's office. Montgomery was a good man.

Kate closed the door to Rick's office behind her, made her way around his desk, and sat down in his chair. She stared at his bookshelves, the pictures hanging on the wall that were so very him, the murder board for the next Nikki Heat. Maybe she'd read the manuscript tonight. His laptop was sitting right in front of her. God knows she wouldn't be able to sleep.

She jumped a bit when the door started to glide open; clasping the wine like a teenager caught drinking her parents' stash. Roy stood framed in the doorway, looking suspiciously wide awake. Somehow she didn't think he'd been sleeping when she'd walked past.

"Want to share?" he asked, nodding at the wine.

Kate looked down at the bottle, then held it out for him wordlessly. He made his way across the office, pulled the bottle from her hand, and then sat down on the couch that was across from Rick's desk. Kate watched him take a swig then glance at the label. He let out a low, impressed whistle.

"You've got good taste, Beckett."

"It's not mine."

The silence hung in the air, and she could feel him looking at her. It wasn't until she finally looked at him too that he spoke. "Are you okay?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. Fine." Montgomery took her answer at face value. He didn't push her, didn't call her bluff, and that's what pulled her next words from her mouth. "I don't think I can take much more of this," she admitted quietly.

Kate made herself keep looking at him. "We're going to find him," he told her gently.

She shook her head. "You don't know that." She watched the stun factor of her words spread over his face. She kept going. "Everybody keeps saying that, but nobody knows that for sure. For all we know, Storm's just dragging me along and Rick is already-" She choked on the words. She broke eye contact instantly and turned her face away. Her right elbow was resting on the armrest of the chair, and she lifted her hand to press it over her mouth. She closed her eyes. Oh, God.

There was another long silence, and then Kate could hear him moving. "Look at me," Montgomery's voice said quietly. He was close. She opened her eyes and turned her head to see him leaning against the edge of the desk next to her, the Pinot Noir still clutched in his hand. "Do you remember when I told you that you were the best homicide detective I'd ever trained?"

She nodded. Of course she did. How could she forget?

"Do you know why?"

She swallowed, shook her head.

"Because you're stubborn as hell."

She stared at him. She tried to understand, really she did, but she couldn't. Montgomery gazed down at her intently. "I've never seen you give up on anything, Beckett. And I'm not going to let you start now."

Kate bit her lip and looked away, but Montgomery wasn't done yet.

"I know you're going through a lot. I know you think all of this is your fault. And I sympathize with you, I do. But I'm not going to let you do this. Tonight you can cry, you can be in denial, you can take three hour long showers. Do what you got to do. But tomorrow, I expect Detective Beckett to be ready to catch this son of a bitch."

She didn't look at him, didn't say anything. "Detective," he said. She knew he was waiting for her to look at him again. She took a deep breath, and then she did. "Castle didn't give up on you. And you will _not_ give up on him. Do I make myself clear?"

She held his eyes. "Yes, sir."

"Good." He leaned forward a bit, like he was going to hug her, and Kate froze. Montgomery hesitated, as if he wasn't sure what he wanted to do, and then he leaned forward all the way and planted a kiss on the top of her head. Kate closed her eyes, feeling like for one second at least it wasn't terribly painful to be alive and breathing. Montgomery moved away far enough to look at her. "Get some sleep."

He started for the door. "Sir?"

She nodded at the wine bottle still in his hands. He looked down at it, then sent a smile her way. "I think you've had enough."

He turned away from her and pulled the door shut behind him. It wasn't a smile, but Kate could feel the corners of her mouth turning up slightly.

Thank God for Roy Montgomery.

X-X-X-X-X

The precinct seemed foreign, cold without Castle. When Kate stepped off the elevator, surrounded by her men, she couldn't stifle the sharp pain that suddenly constricted her chest. She could, however, ignore it, and she did; with a vengeance that made her teeth grind together because she was clenching her jaw so hard. She shifted her hold on her coffee cup, fixed her eyes on her desk, and strode toward it. She could do this. She would do this. She would not break, and she would not give up on Castle. Derrick Storm had no idea who he was dealing with.

She sank into her chair, her eyes avoiding the empty seat next to her desk the same way she avoided the concerned gazes of Esposito and Ryan. She pulled a pad of paper from her top drawer, plucked a pen from the cup on the corner of her desk, and started brainstorming ideas of where Storm could be keeping Rick. She didn't even get to come up with one before Anderson was in front of her desk.

"Good morning."

She looked up at him. "Morning."

"How are you?"

She really wasn't in the mood, but he was trying to be nice. She couldn't punish him for that. "Fine."

He waited for a moment, as if she had something else to say, but Kate just stared at him. He cleared his throat. "Well, um, I've got the Bureau's criminal psychologist in the conference room. He runs one of the profiling team based here in New York; he's the one I mentioned the other day. He wants to meet you."

"Yeah. Fine."

She rose from her chair, snatching her coffee from the desk before following Anderson into the conference room. Esposito and Ryan weren't far behind her. Montgomery was in there already, talking to a man. When Kate entered the room the two men turned to look at her, and she wanted to vomit at the sympathetic look the older man sent her way. Montgomery, thank God, knew her better than that, and just smiled.

"Beckett, this is Dr. Oliver Graham," Montgomery said, gesturing toward the man next to him.

"Nice to meet you, Detective Beckett," Graham said genially, extending his hand. Kate shook his hand and gave him her best professional smile.

"You too, Dr. Graham. I assume you're filled in on the situation."

"Oh, yes," Graham answered gravely. Kate seriously considered rolling her eyes. "I've been working with Agent Anderson from the beginning, though my caseload has been too extensive to permit me to meet with you personally. Given recent events…"

He trailed off and Kate felt a familiar flare burning in the pit of her stomach. Christ, she was angry. _Given recent events_. Which events? The one where her dad fell into a coma because he'd been drugged? Or the one where Rick got kidnapped right out from under their noses? Guess that's what it took nowadays for fucking FBI profilers to introduce themselves to someone who'd been fixated on by a crazy stalker serial killer.

She looked at Graham pointedly, wanting to get down to business and avoid the pity party everyone seemed to want to throw for her. "Do you have any idea where we can find Castle?"

"I have some ideas, yes. Unfortunately, they all ride on whether or not you know who Derrick Storm is."

"I don't know who he is. That's why you're here. He's left us no clues, no leads, nothing. All we have is your profile."

"We're going to have to reevaluate that."

God, she wanted to punch him. Hard. Kate took a deep breath, trying to find the even keeled calm that had been her MO only one week ago. Shit, things had changed. If she were to have one of those out of body experiences that so many novel heroines had, she was sure she wouldn't even recognize herself. But this wasn't a novel. This was her _life_, and god damn, she had royally fucked it up. She couldn't even tell the difference between Kate and Detective Beckett anymore.

"Why is it so important that we know who he is?" Montgomery asked, his gaze darting between the violently sparking eyes of his best detective and the doctor who was blissfully unaware of how close he was to physical pain. "Can't you profile him without knowing that?"

"Absolutely," Graham answered. "And I did. The problem is that I'm sure he has Mr. Castle in a location that means something in regards to his relationship to Detective Beckett."

"Whose relationship to Detective Beckett?"

"Derrick Storm's." Graham looked at Kate. "I think Mr. Castle is somewhere that links you and Storm."

"And we don't know of any places that link you and Storm because we don't know who Storm is," Anderson finished.

Kate pursed her lips and stared at the floor. God, she was incompetent. Six murders, including the agent that had been killed when Rick was taken. A kidnapped child. Her dad in a coma and Rick gone, and she had nothing.

Shit, she needed to sit down.

Kate moved to the nearest chair, dropping into it with a sigh that she hoped passed as frustrated but probably sounded more pathetic. She rested her elbow on the table and pinched the bridge of her nose, running through her mind's catalog of people for the millionth time. Someone she knew. Someone who knew her very, very well. No ex-boyfriends. No family because she didn't really have any.

Her eyes flew open when she felt the chair next to her moving. Anderson was lowering himself into the chair next to her, leaning much closer than she wanted him.

"I know you're having a hard time, Beckett. And if this wasn't really important, we wouldn't push you." Why was he talking to her like she was a five year old? Suddenly she was contemplating punching him too. "But Dr. Graham is sure that you have to know this guy. There's no way it could be some random stranger, or even someone you put away. The things he knows…your favorite book. How your mom died. It's got to be someone you know."

"We've been over this," she told him slowly. If he didn't lay off, she was going to explode. "I don't know anybody who could do something like this."

"There has to be someone. An old boyfriend, an old classmate, somebody. Think hard."

"You don't think I've been doing that already?" she snapped. She turned in her chair to stare at him, to watch as he leaned away from her because her voice was so loud and so furious. "My dad's in a coma and Rick is gone. You think I got any sleep at all last night?"

"Okay, easy," Montgomery interrupted. Kate kept glaring at Anderson. "Let's just step back here. Beckett, what's the most private thing this guy knows? Something that only a handful of people know?"

Kate sighed and broke eye contact with Anderson, who looked like he'd just been kicked in the teeth. Jesus. "The promise I made my dad that I wouldn't lose him too; the fact that it's why he stopped drinking. AA meetings are anonymous, and his drinking days aren't something we discuss with other people. Hardly anyone knows that."

"Who are the people that do?" Montgomery asked.

Christ, she hated that her life was on display. "Umm…a few close friends."

"Who?" Montgomery pressed. If it was anybody but him she would've snapped.

"Castle. Lanie. Will."

"Who else?"

"I haven't told anyone else directly."

"What about when it first happened? When you first made that promise?"

She shook her head. "I didn't talk to anybody back then. I mean I had a best friend…he's in California now. A doctor."

"Could it be him?" Anderson questioned.

Kate set her eyes on him so intently she thought he might burst into flames. "_No_. He's…was…my best friend. He would never…" she shook her head. It wasn't even possible. Not Tyler. "Besides, I would've recognized his voice."

Montgomery pulled her attention toward him again. "What about when you started digging around your first few years on the force? You talk to anyone?"

"No. I barely agreed to see my dad's psychiatrist, I was so far in…" Kate trailed off. Something tugged on her brain, a whisper saying _find me find me_. She felt her eyebrows contract, felt her brain starting to work a mile a minute. Everything fit. The things that no one could have possibly known about her, things that she had never told anyone collectively. The way he knew how her mind worked, what would get to her, what would break her. The two incredibly powerful prescription drugs that had sent her father into heart failure and then a coma; what he knew about her dad and his alcoholism. The fact that she'd gone to see him for a while after Castle had reopened her mother's case. The fact that she'd admitted Castle had damaged her; maybe in her anger let it slip that she worried he made her less of a cop.

She looked up at Montgomery, her eyes wide. "My dad's psychiatrist," she murmured. "He would know all of this."

The silence in the room was deafening. "Everything?"

"Everything."

"What's his name, Beckett?"

"Mark DeLucas."


	18. Predator

Rick peered at Derrick Storm out of eyes that were most likely black and blue and definitely swollen. "Can I ask you something?" he said around his fat and bleeding lip.

Derrick Storm looked up from his position in Rick's favorite arm chair disgustedly. Rick closed his eyes and let his mind drift, just for a second, to the memory of Kate curled up in sweats, reading _Pride and Prejudice_ in that chair. He'd teased her, told her she was such a typical girl, and she'd challenged his tease with a wicked grip on the pressure point of his shoulder. Then she'd kissed him. That woman was a walking, breathing contradiction.

Extraordinary.

"What makes you think this is going to work?" Rick asked, because even though Storm hadn't actually said he could ask the question, Rick was going to ask it anyway. It's just what he did.

"It'll work," Storm growled.

"How can you…" Ugh. Blood was _not_ supposed to pool in your mouth like that. Rick spit it out of his mouth and onto his ridiculously expensive wood floor. He wondered briefly if he'd just come off as incredibly manly. Kate would've rolled her eyes. "How can you be so sure?" he continued. "I mean kidnapping a woman's lover and beating him up isn't exactly the way to get her to date you instead."

"I don't want her to date me."

Rick looked at his captor incredulously. "You don't?"

A wicked smile curved over Derrick Storm's lips. If Rick hadn't hated him so much, he might've acknowledged that he was a good looking guy; even when he was grinning like a maniac and had a Glock in his hands. "You thought I was jealous," Storm said. His smile turned into a sneer. "How _primitive_ of you."

Rick barked out a sharp laugh. "Primitive? No offense, Derrick, but you're the one who just beat the shit out of me. Doesn't get much more primitive than that."

Derrick glowered at him. "Shut up, Castle. Unless you want to lose more blood."

Hmm. That probably wasn't the best idea. But at this point, his chances didn't look good either way. And he really, really wanted to know what the hell Derrick Storm was after. "So, if you don't want to date her, what do you want?"

"Right now? For you to shut the fuck up."

"Request denied. Next?"

Derrick was on his feet in an instant, but after taking two steps toward Rick he stopped. He shook his head and smirked. "Now I know what she meant."

Rick was alert instantly. "What who meant?"

"Kate."

"What are you talking about?"

Derrick grinned as he sauntered closer to Rick, twirling the Glock around his index finger nonchalantly. "She said you were like an overgrown child. Totally incapable of taking anything seriously. You push your limits and then the second you realize you've gone too far, you try to charm your way out of it." Derrick looked down at the gun in his hand, slid the magazine out and grazed his eyes over it, then shoved it back in. A shiver raced over Rick at the casual way Derrick checked his bullets, as if wondering how many he'd have left if he used one or two. Derrick looked back up at Rick. "I could diagnose you, if you like."

"Diagnose me?" Rick repeated. "What are you, a shrink?" Derrick laughed, but didn't answer. Rick spit again and then continued. "Listen, Dr. Creepy, why don't you just come out and tell me how you know Kate? She's probably figured it out by now anyway."

Derrick shrugged. "Probably, now that you're not around to distract her." He shook his head, started pacing through the room casually. "I can't believe she didn't see it. She's always been so focused on her work. Never let anything get in the way." Derrick stopped and turned around, eyeing Rick. "Until you."

"She's happy with me, you know."

Oh, that was definitely the wrong thing to say. Rick watched as Derrick closed the distance between them rapidly. He planted his hands on Rick's wrists, which were duct taped to the armrests of the chair, and pressed his weight down on them viciously. Rick gritted his teeth as Derrick got right in his face. "You're _destroying _her."

"By making her laugh? By loving her?"

"She can't do her job-"

"I help her do her job-"

"You distract her!" Derrick roared, lifting his hands off of Rick's wrists only to bring his fists crashing back down violently. Rick grunted in pain. "You think she ever would've taken this long to find me if _you _weren't around? You think her dad would be lying brain dead in the hospital if she had resisted the urge to fuck you?" Derrick pulled his foot back and kicked Rick right in the shin in a fit of anger, and Rick cried out in pain. Derrick stalked away. "God damn it, Kate!" he shouted.

The sharp pain in Rick's leg subsided into a sore throb. Rick stared at the man before him, the man who was completely, utterly insane, and suddenly hoped that Kate didn't find him. He didn't want Kate anywhere near Derrick Storm.

"So let me get this straight," Rick said quietly. "You put her through all of this because you think I make her less of a cop?"

Derrick didn't turn around when he answered. "_She_ thinks you make her less of a cop. When she let you into her bed, her judgment was clouded. That kind of distraction could've cost her her life. I had to help her."

"What gives you the right? She never asked for your help."

"Oh, but she did." Derrick turned around. His lips were stretched into a tight smile. "She asked me years ago, before you were even in the picture. You were right. I am a shrink. I'm Kate's shrink. And when you stuck your nose into her mother's case after she asked you not to, guess who she came running to?" Rick watched as Derrick Storm took a few steps toward him, twirling his Glock again. "You know, it's funny…the only reason she walked back through my door again was because of _you_."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate focused on the familiar weight of her Sig Sauer in her hand, took a deep breath, and then nodded at Anderson. He stepped forward and then kicked the door open, moving aside so that Kate could rush through the entranceway of Mark DeLucas's apartment with the tactical team hot on her heels.

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Clear."

Kate lowered her gun, sighing. Of course it was clear. Of course he wasn't here. She holstered her gun and looked around, sickened by how utterly normal the apartment was. The nauseating shiver that was oh so familiar swept over her skin as she walked around the living room, unwilling to touch anything. He'd been here. Probably thinking about her. Christ, it was creepy. How often did he think about her? What did he think about her? How had all of this even started anyway?

The last time she'd seen Mark DeLucas had been that summer she wasn't speaking to Castle. She'd gone to see Mark…how many times? Once a week for a few weeks. She'd been scared. Worried. She hadn't wanted to revert back to the obsessive addict she'd been when investigating her mom's murder her first few years on the force. Her dad had been addicted to alcohol; she'd been addicted to her search for the truth. Mark had helped her through it the first time, and so when Castle looked into everything behind her back, she hadn't hesitated to go back to Mark.

She'd told him everything, the way she had never been able to tell anyone else. She'd discovered that she could detach from herself at therapy; share her deepest thoughts and feelings and then walk out of the office feeling like she hadn't revealed anything at all, because it wasn't a part of her life, not really, it was just this little disappearing act she did on a regular basis. Mark was good. He didn't push her, and the gratitude she felt for that made her want to share more. So she did. She shared everything.

And look where it got her.

"I'll bring in CSU," Anderson said, suddenly appearing next to her. "If there's something here, we'll find it."

Kate looked up at him. He was staring down at her, sympathy etched in every line of his face, and she felt incredibly guilty for how she'd yelled at him earlier. He'd been so good to her through all of this. He'd even apologized for asking her out once he realized there was something going on with Castle that she wasn't willing to share. She hadn't exactly returned the favor.

"I don't understand how this happened," she admitted.

"Don't understand how what happened?"

"How he fixated on me. I saw him for a year, a little longer, and nothing happened. He didn't seem crazy at all. Then I go back to him years later for a month or two and suddenly he's killing people."

"Maybe something happened in his life to trigger the fixation," Anderson suggested. "Trauma can do weird things to people."

"Maybe," she said in return. She flinched, just a little, when Anderson put a hand on her shoulder.

"Let's go back and talk to Dr. Graham. Esposito should-"

Kate's phone cut him off with a shrill ring, and she had it to her ear in a flash. "Beckett."

"It's Esposito. We found something."

God, her heart was racing before he even finished the sentence. "What?"

"DeLucas was married."

"Why does that matter?"

"Graham says DeLucas is fixated on you because you remind him of his wife. She was a cop, a uniform for the 6th precinct. She was shot and killed while on duty."

"Holy shit," Kate breathed.

"He's not in his apartment?" Esposito asked.

"No."

"Graham says to try his office next. The office where you had your appointments."

"We're on it," Kate replied. She hung up and started for the door.

X-X-X-X-X

Mark DeLucas's office was just like Kate remembered. The taupe walls, the white molding, the landscape paintings that Kate had always hated but now wanted to disappear into. She didn't even bother to answer the receptionist's question of whether or not she could help; she left Anderson's guys to handle the polite shit and beelined straight for DeLucas's personal office. Anderson was only a step behind her.

She shoved the door to DeLucas's personal office open so hard that it banged back toward her. Kate stopped it with the toe of her high heel, her gun raised.

"Easy," Anderson cautioned.

Kate ignored him and stepped into the room, sweeping her gun in line with her vision, trusting that Anderson would cover her. The office was empty. Kate lowered her gun with a soft curse, and Anderson appeared next to her.

"It was a long shot," he told her comfortingly. "He probably knows you figured it out."

"Your guys are talking to the receptionist?" Kate asked instead of acknowledging his attempt at reassurance.

"Of course."

Kate started to make her way around the room, taking everything in. She didn't know what she was looking for, but there had to be something here. Storm hadn't called, hadn't left any clues for her, and that conflicted with how he'd done things up until now.

"Start looking," she ordered when she realized Anderson was just standing and staring at her. "There's got to be something here."

"We can't do that," Anderson argued.

Kate turned on him. "Why the hell not?"

"We don't have a warrant."

"Plain view."

Anderson didn't even pretend to buy it. "Bullshit, Beckett. I know you won't keep your hands to yourself."

Kate's temper flared. "We're not looking for admissible evidence. We're looking for something that can help us find Castle. We're running out of time." Indecision flashed across Anderson's face, and Kate shook her head at him. "You want to wait for a warrant? Fine. But _you_ can explain it to his daughter if we're too late."

She knew that would get him, and she watched as the realization of what she was implying sunk in. Anderson looked at her for a moment longer, and then turned away from her and started looking around the office. Kate pulled a pair of latex gloves on, just in case she came across something and forgot to put them on in her haste. She sat down in the expensive black office chair behind DeLucas's immense wooden desk, trying not to think about the fact that he might've been sitting in this chair when he plotted to destroy her. Her fingers closed around the handle of one of his desk drawers and yanked, and then she started rifling through the contents of the drawer; paperclips, pens, a stapler-

"Beckett."

Kate looked up. Anderson was standing with his back to her, staring at a huge framed painting on the wall opposite DeLucas's desk. "What?" she asked him.

"You got gloves on?"

"You think I'd be rooting through his desk if I didn't?"

"Come help me move this then," Anderson said next, ignoring her tone.

Kate rose from the chair and covered the distance between them rapidly, her eyes set on the painting. When she got close enough, she saw something sticking out from under the bottom of the frame, something that looked like the corner of a picture. Kate resisted the urge to mutter _plain view_ under her breath. She helped Anderson lift the painting off of the wall, and when she saw what was underneath, the frame nearly slipped out of her grasp.

Pictures. Of her. Dozens of them. Shots of her going in and out of her apartment, working crime scenes with the boys, having dinner and drinks with Lanie, walking down the street.

"Jesus Christ," Anderson murmured, his voice tainted with the same disgusted shock that was taking over Kate's brain. The same sense of sick violation that she'd felt back in DeLucas's apartment washed over her again, making her nauseous.

"Look at the date stamps," Anderson said next, pointing to one of the pictures. It was the same picture Kate was already looking at, trying to come to terms with the fact that in it she was wearing shorts. "This was a while ago," Anderson said, whipping his head around to look at her.

God. DeLucas had been watching her since the last time she'd come to see him. He'd been _stalking_ her. Kate forced her eyes away from the date stamp, feeling like she was going to be sick. Her eyes roamed over the other pictures, and then came to rest on the picture right in the center of the mural. It was the cover picture from the _Daily News_. Kate reached out and tugged on it, releasing it from the flat tack that had held it in place. She stared down at it in her hands.

"He's hunting you," Anderson said quietly. "Like you're prey."

A fury like she'd never known before was rising in Kate, mixing with the intensity of her feelings of violation and disgust to form something awful. She clenched her jaw.

"Good," she finally said. She looked up at Anderson. "Because he's mine."

X-X-X-X-X

"There's nowhere else that links us," Kate told Graham, staring at him from across the conference room table. Montgomery was standing behind her, while Anderson had taken a similar position behind Graham. Esposito and Ryan were standing silently at the end of the table. "I only ever saw him at his office. You were wrong."

Graham seemed offended at the idea of being wrong, but Kate didn't give a shit. "That was before I realized he'd been following you for this long," the specialist defended.

"Well he has," Kate muttered, gesturing at the photos spread across the table in between them. "Since the last time I saw him. Can you tell me why?"

"You know about his wife," Graham answered. "I'd say he fixated on you because you remind him of her. The report of her death said she was shot while a civilian was on a ride-along with her."

"Of course she was," Kate said angrily, shaking her head. "That's why he hates that Castle's shadowing me. He thinks it puts me in danger."

"And that it makes you less of a cop," Graham added. "He's been very adamant about that, about you not being able to do your job because you have to babysit Castle."

"I don't _babysit _Castle," Kate spat, her frustration coming to a boil. God, she was going to kill this arrogant son of a bitch in less than five seconds if he didn't-

"Beckett," Montgomery warned from behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder and shoving her down into a chair. The tension in the room sizzled, but for the moment Kate was willing to comply with her Captain's warning. "Dr. Graham," Montgomery started, "what are we dealing with here?"

Graham sighed. "DeLucas is a serial killer that's fixated on Detective Beckett. Every move he makes revolves around her."

"We already know that," Kate said acidly. "What we _need_ to know is where he's got Castle. If Castle isn't somewhere that links me and Storm, then _where is he_?"

"Given the level of DeLucas's obsession with you, Castle is somewhere that's important to you," Graham answered.

"That could be anywhere," Kate spat. "I've lived in New York my whole life."

Graham sighed again. "That's the problem."

"You can't narrow it down at all?" Montgomery asked.

"I could-"

The door opened and everyone in the room turned to see one of Anderson's men, Agent Sheffield, standing in the doorway. "Anderson," Sheffield said. "His phone was just turned on."

"Whose phone?" Kate demanded.

"Castle's," Anderson said. Kate was suddenly on her feet. "Remember how we tried to get a trace when he first went missing but we couldn't because the phone was turned off and the battery was out?"

"It's back on," Kate finished. She fixed her eyes on Sheffield, already racing around the table toward him. "Where is he?" She didn't even wait for Sheffield to finish; she ripped the paper out of his hand, read the address and coordinates printed on the paper, and then looked up at Sheffield. "How far outside of Manhattan is this?"

"About a hundred miles," Sheffield answered.

Anderson appeared next to Kate, his hand reaching out to touch her arm. "I can get the Bureau's helicopters."

X-X-X-X-X

Mark whistled a tune absently as he set Castle's phone on top of the dead body, knowing that he didn't need to rush. It would take Kate and her men a while to get here, which gave him an opportunity to make sure that everything was set up perfectly for her. This was the beginning of the end, and he couldn't wait to see the look on Kate's face when the final moment came. That moment would decide whether she lived or died. Castle, on the other hand…

His fate was already decided.


	19. Heat of the Night

_**This chapter is nice and long, guys. Hopefully it makes up for the wicked cliffhanger at the end :) Heartfelt thanks to a certain few who have been so wonderful at ego boosting and beta-ing. **_

The second the helicopter touched down, Kate leaped onto the pavement. Teams from the local police and sheriff's department were waiting for them. One man seemed to be standing apart and in front of the crowd of officers, and Kate strode toward him.

"You're in charge?" she demanded as soon as she was within earshot, shouting over the noise of the helicopters.

"Chief Dan Varner," the man said, offering his hand. "You must be Detective Beckett."

Kate shook Varner's hand just as Anderson caught up with her. Kate introduced Anderson and he shook Varner's hand too, but Kate didn't wait to ask her next question. "How far away are we?"

"Ten minutes. I've already got a tactical team waiting for you at the site. It's a warehouse."

"That's his MO," Anderson said to Kate.

Kate nodded. "And there's been no activity?" she asked Varner.

"None. There is a light in a room on the third floor, though. We've got SUVs waiting to transport you and your team."

Varner gestured at the SUVs lined up behind him, and Kate and Anderson headed for them immediately. Esposito sprinted up next to Kate and held out an NYPD vest. Kate pulled it on as Ryan held the door of the SUV open for her. Once the SUV was moving, Anderson rested a hand on Kate's knee. She looked at him.

"We're going to find him."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate crept down the hallway of the third floor of the warehouse, her gun ready and her flashlight guiding her steps. Anderson was next to her, matching her stride for stride with his gun and flashlight up too. There were dozens of officers behind them and throughout the rest of the building, including Esposito and Ryan, who were right at her heels.

At the end of the hall, light was pouring out through a door that was ajar. Kate's feet moved silently across the floor, but she was surrounded by the roar of her heart thumping in her ears.

Ten yards away from the door. Kate ran her finger over the trigger of her Sig, just to feel the smoothness of the steel, and tried to ignore the image of putting a bullet in Mark DeLucas's brain.

Five yards away from the door. What if Rick was dead? What if DeLucas wasn't there but Rick's cold, lifeless body was?

Five feet away from the door. Anderson nudged her gently with his elbow, and she looked at him. He jerked his head toward the door, signed that he was going to go in first and she should cover. Kate shook her head. She wanted to go first. Anderson gave her a look, saw that he had no hope of winning, and then nodded.

Two feet away from the door. Kate paused, watched as Anderson spun past the light and to the other side of doorway. She stopped just outside the doorway herself, her back to the wall. Her heartbeat was deafening in her ears. She made eye contact with Anderson, and he mouthed the countdown.

_Three_. DeLucas could be waiting.

_Two_. If he was, he'd be armed. All that would protect her was her vest.

_One_. Rick could be dead.

_Go._

Kate leapt into the doorway and the light, her feet spread apart in a shooting stance, but any semblance of cop thought was erased when her eyes fell on the motionless body of a man duct taped to a chair in the center of the room, facing away from her.

Her hands lowered, and with them went her training. Kate sprinted into the room, ignoring Anderson's shouts that mingled with her boys' warnings, heading straight for the man in the chair.

The fingers of her left hand were on his neck before she even got to the front of him, feeling for a pulse where there was none. The man's head was lolled forward in death and Kate dropped to her knees to see his face, her fingers still pressed to his neck.

It wasn't Rick.

"What the fuck, Beckett!" Anderson shouted. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

The realization that it wasn't Rick hit Kate in the same moment she realized that she'd rushed into the room without clearing it. Her gun was up as quick as she was on her feet, but the danger was already past. Anderson, Ryan, and Esposito had already poured in, followed by half a dozen agents and officers, and Kate was staring at a room filled with nothing but law enforcement officials, a dead body, and a huge black flashlight sitting on the floor and pointed at the ceiling.

She ignored Anderson and holstered her Sig, reaching forward to tip the man's head back enough to see his face. Definitely wasn't Rick. And if this wasn't Rick, they still didn't know where he was or if he was alive. This was just another one of DeLucas's tricks.

The fury slammed through Kate wickedly, making her see red, and for a moment she thought she was going to scream. She took a deep breath and looked down at the dead body again. There was an iPhone sitting on the man's leg; it was Rick's. Kate picked it up, noticing that an unsent text message addressed to her phone number was on the screen.

_Another one bites the dust. What's your total now, Detective?_

The rage that had been building in Kate all day hit its breaking point.

"God damn it!" she roared, winding up and hurling Rick's iPhone at the nearest wall. Kate turned away from it, shoving her hand through her hair angrily, the sudden silence in the room ringing in her ears.

After a moment Kate closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out of her nose in a quick, furious puff. Then she pushed through her boys and out the door into the hall, because she couldn't bear to be in the room a second longer.

X-X-X-X-X

Rick grimaced as Derrick Storm ripped the duct tape from off of his mouth. Storm grinned at the writer's pain, crumpling the duct tape into a ball and dropping it by Rick's feet.

"You know iPhones aren't that expensive," Rick said after he licked his lips. "I'm sure you could afford one. You didn't have to take mine."

Storm laughed. "Actually, I did. See, my phone would mean nothing to Kate. But yours? Yours will mean quite a bit."

"Where'd you put it?"

"This isn't one of your novels, Castle. I'm not going to reveal my master plan to you and then laugh like a maniac."

"You don't have to laugh to be a maniac," Rick muttered. Storm laughed in return, an incredibly creepy deep throated chuckle that made Rick's skin crawl just enough that he didn't point out the irony. Rick watched Storm walk across the room, looking down at a netbook. "What are you looking at?" he asked.

Storm looked at him. "Didn't I just tell you that I'm not going to answer your questions?"

"You're going to kill me anyway," Rick pointed out. "You may be waiting for Kate to find me, but I'm not under any impression that you're going to let me walk out of here. So really, what would it hurt?"

Storm considered it for a minute, then sank into an armchair with a smirk. "I'm looking at Kate."

Rick's heart leapt into his throat. "How?"

"I planted cameras by where I left her next present." Storm smiled as he looked down at the netbook. "Looks like she's about to find it." Rick felt sick to his stomach. Had this bastard been watching Kate at all of her crime scenes? How long had he been watching her? Weeks? Months?

Storm looked up at Rick, another smirk on his face. "What's the matter, Castle? No witty retorts? No insults?"

"You're insane."

Storm threw his head back and laughed. "I'm insane? You're the one who's under the delusion that Kate actually _trusts_ you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means. You really think she trusts you after you went behind her back and looked into her mother's murder? Or given the fact that you've been divorced twice and have screwed half the women in New York? You're an idiot, Castle. She doesn't trust you."

"You're wrong."

"No, I think you know I'm right. I've been her psychiatrist for a long time. Nobody knows her like I do."

"You're wrong," Rick said again. "I know her."

Storm grinned. "Oh, you do? Do you know what she does every year on Christmas Eve?"

Rick glared at Storm, but didn't respond. He didn't know.

"She goes to Macy's," Storm continued. "She and her mother used to go every year and look at the Christmas displays in the windows. Her father wouldn't go; thought it was touristy. But Kate and her mother loved it. Kate had a hard time going after her mother died, but she still goes. Every year."

Rick tried to keep the emotion off of his face, tried to pretend like he hadn't just realized that Storm really did know more about Kate than he did, but he could tell by the psychiatrist's expression that it wasn't working.

"Why the sad look, Castle? She didn't tell you that? I wonder why? Because she told me." The grin on Storm's lips was brutal. "She's never going to let you in. The moment things go deeper than the surface, she closes up. You've already seen it in her. It's not really news to you, is it?"

"She let me in."

"No. She's holding back. Kate Beckett always holds back."

Rick glared at the psychiatrist, hatred coursing through his veins. Storm looked down at his netbook for a long moment, chuckled, and then looked back up at Rick.

"You want to see her break again?" he asked. "Here, I'll replay it for you."

He walked across the room and held the netbook in front of Rick's face. Rick had a feeling he didn't want to see whatever was about to show up on screen, so he looked away. Pain suddenly seared through his hand, and Rick turned to see the sharpened point of a knife pushing down into the back of his hand. "Look," Storm growled.

It was only once Rick turned his eyes to the netbook that Storm stopped pressing the knife blade into his hand. A room was on the screen, the figure of a slumped man taped to a chair in the center of the picture. Nothing happened for a moment, and then suddenly Kate appeared in the doorway, an NYPD vest on and her gun lifted.

Was it terribly cliché of him to admit that seeing her made him feel better? For a second the world stilled and Rick took in every inch of her, vest and all, and he couldn't ignore the wave of Kate-induced memory. The way her hair smelled, particularly in those moments when he stole a sniff behind the backs of Ryan and Esposito. The concentrated lines between her eyebrows when she was searching for a link in a case. The way she felt underneath him, her nails digging into his back; the way she tasted, his name falling from her lips breathlessly…

And then the comfort shattered, and Rick watched as she lowered her gun and sprinted into the room. He watched her kneel down by the dead man, and knew that the unruffled detective he'd always known had frayed so badly that she was only a thread now. Kate Beckett never rushed into a room without checking it out, never let herself be emotionally affected by the sight of a dead body.

What she did next stunned him. He watched as she reached down and picked up his iPhone. She stared at it, and then she wound up and heaved it at the wall.

Rick couldn't look anymore; the threat of pain from the knife was nothing compared to what was ripping through his chest. He turned his head away, gritting his teeth.

Storm's face suddenly appeared in Rick's line of vision. "Even if by some miracle you managed to weasel your way in once or twice…you'll never get in again. Not after this."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate was sitting on the bumper of one of the SUVs. She knew that Anderson was in a huddle somewhere with Montgomery, Varner, and the boys, knew that Commissioner Brady and the Mayor had probably already been called since there was a large gathering of reporters forming behind the police barriers that were located behind the SUV Kate was sitting in. She knew they were probably talking about her, about the way she'd disregarded protocol and destroyed evidence and basically fucked up in a way that she never would've thought she was capable of.

But she didn't really care. She didn't care about anything anymore.

"Beckett."

Kate looked up to see Montgomery standing in front of her, his face emotionless. "Can I have a word?"

Kate rose to her feet, following him away from the groups of cops and agents milling around and toward a secluded area surrounded by SUVs. Montgomery stopped and turned to her, eyeing her for a moment before he spoke.

"If you ever pull a stunt like that again-"

"I know," she interrupted. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? You went in with no idea what could've been waiting for you, you destroyed evidence-"

"I _know_," she cut him off. Her eyes lifted to meet his with a flash. _"_I'm sorry."

Montgomery stared at her and then sighed. "Listen, Beckett. This is…too much. I know you're going through hell right now, and believe me nobody wants it to end for you more than I do. But as your Captain…I can't let this slide. I'm pulling you off lead."

Kate stared at him impassively. "DeLucas won't like that."

"He won't know. As far as he and anyone else is concerned, you're still in charge of this investigation. But Anderson is calling the shots now, not you. Understood?"

She couldn't look at him anymore. "Yes, sir."

"Is there anything you need?" he asked. "Maybe some food, or some coffee-"

"I'm fine."

Montgomery nodded. "Okay. Well, they found a note folded in the vic's hands. Anderson's got it, if you want take a look."

Kate nodded and walked away without saying anything else. She didn't have anything to say. She saw Anderson standing next to Esposito and Ryan, and she headed for them. When she was a few feet away she caught Anderson's eye, followed soon by Esposito's and Ryan's.

"Montgomery said there's a note?" she said simply once she got to them.

Anderson nodded and held it out, and Kate looked down at it and then back up. "I need gloves."

Ryan held them out for her, and she pulled them on wordlessly, then plucked the note out of his hand.

_From the desk of Richard Castle. _

Her brain couldn't seem to decide whether it wanted to be numb or furious or hurt, and so Kate wavered painfully somewhere in between. She read the familiar handwriting beneath the letterhead.

_When I am attacked by gloomy thoughts, nothing helps me so much as running to my books. They quickly absorb me and banish the clouds from my mind._

_ -Michel de Montaige_

Kate's phone rang, and she reached for it. "Beckett."

"Did you find my note?"

Kate froze, her eyes lifting to meet Anderson's. This was the first time DeLucas had ever called her phone. _It's him_, she mouthed. His eyes widened. "Yes," she answered.

"Any brilliant thoughts?"

"It's a quote," Kate answered. "I've never even heard it before. Why would it mean anything to me?"

"It would if you weren't still distracted. I mean really, Detective, running into a room without checking it out, throwing evidence against the wall…it's not very professional."

At first she was just pissed, but then it hit her. How did he know that? How did he know that unless…

She covered the end of the receiver. "Check the room for cameras," she hissed.

Anderson looked at her incredulously. "What?"

"Cameras," she growled. "He saw us; he's got cameras in the room."

"We're on it," Esposito said, and he and Ryan took off toward the warehouse.

Kate moved her hand from the end of the receiver. "Professional," she repeated, an empty laugh threading into her voice. "Let's talk about being professional, Dr. DeLucas."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then DeLucas spoke again. "Bravo, Detective. Maybe not as distracted as I thought you were."

"You want to tell me why your vow to help people suddenly became a vow to destroy them?"

"Your destruction is entirely dependent on you, Kate. You know that. Now, I have instructions for you."

"I'm listening."

"When you figure out what that note means, you come _alone_."

Alone. Without backup, without protection. The idea of facing Mark DeLucas alone was…appealing? Terrifying? Both? Could she take him down herself? Did she have a choice?

"Come where?" she tried, stalling for time.

"You'll know when you figure it out. But you come alone, Kate. I saw you in the warehouse, and I'll see you when you get here. If you're not alone, I'll put a bullet in Castle's brain and you won't even get to try to talk me out of killing him."

And there it was. The only reason that could possibly make her consider facing DeLucas alone. "I thought he was of no use to you dead?"

"You really want to push me and find out?" Kate pressed her lips together and stared at the pavement. Whether it was rhetorical or not, she couldn't answer. "Alone, Kate," DeLucas said again. "Do you understand?"

Oh, God. Did she understand? Could she do this? What other choice did she have?

"Yes."

"Good. See you soon."

The line went dead, and Kate lowered the phone from her ear. The gravity of what she'd just agreed to was incredibly heavy, but she was backed into a corner. What else could she do?

"Well?" Anderson pressed. "What did he say?"

"Same old shit," Kate said. She made herself look him straight in the eye. "Nothing important."

X-X-X-X-X

Luna's was a shitty little diner about a mile from the warehouse where DeLucas had left his latest victim. Kate and company had squeezed into a circular booth in the corner to eat, regroup, and figure out what to do next. Kate was sandwiched between Anderson on the end, and Montgomery. Esposito and Ryan were next, with Varner on the other end. Kate sat quietly with her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that she hadn't touched. Ryan and Esposito were wolfing down a massive stack of pancakes, while Anderson, Varner, and Montgomery were tossing around ideas.

"Maybe it's not the quote," Anderson suggested. "Maybe it's the name. It's been the name before. Remember Kate Croy?"

"It's not exactly a common name," Varner added. "We can run it through the system, see if there's anyone in the county with that name."

"Who was he, anyway?" Montgomery wondered.

"Some writer from the 1500's," Esposito said around a mouthful of pancakes. When everyone turned to give him a surprised look, he shrugged. "What? I got a Blackberry. Wikipedia ain't hard to find."

"Stellar detective work right there," Ryan piped up around his own mouthful of pancakes. "Stellar."

Everyone at the table chuckled. Everyone except Kate. Really, she hadn't even been listening. She was replaying her conversation with DeLucas over and over again in her mind, wondering if there was some sort of clue that she'd missed. He'd said she would understand as soon as she figured out what the quote meant, but she couldn't figure out what the fuck it meant. Gloomy thoughts. She certainly had those. But running to her books? All her books were back in her apartment, and there was no way Rick was in her apartment…she'd called Karpowski to check.

She didn't think it was the name. She'd considered that option long before Anderson had, and had quickly tossed it out. DeLucas wouldn't use the same tactic twice. It had to be something in the quote. Something about the note itself was familiar, but she couldn't seem to put a finger on it…

"What I want to know is how he got the stationary," Anderson said. "He must've broken into Castle's loft."

"Maybe that's it," Ryan piped up. "Maybe he sent us all the way out here so he could break into the loft with Castle."

"That doesn't make sense," Esposito countered. "Why would he drive all the way out here, construct a crime scene, and then drive all the way back to Manhattan-"

The rest of Esposito's words were lost on Kate as recognition washed over her. The stationary. That's what she'd recognized; she'd seen the same pad of paper on Rick's massive mahogany desk in his library at his mansion in the Hamptons…

Oh, God.

Rick was in the Hamptons.

It all fit. The mention of the books, the letterhead…how had she not seen it before? Rick was in his own house, probably in his library…the Hamptons couldn't be far away…how far were they?

She pulled her Blackberry out, started typing out the address of Rick's mansion. While she waited for MapQuest to come up with directions, she cast a furtive glance around the table, just to see if any of the boys were watching her. None of them were. She looked back down at her screen, and her answer popped up.

Twenty minutes. Rick was only twenty minutes away.

Kate was in the process of opening her mouth to blurt out her discovery to the boys when she remembered Mark's threat.

_If you're not alone, I'll put a bullet in Castle's brain._

Kate froze, staring down at her phone. What should she do? If she walked into that mansion alone, she'd be playing right into Mark's hands. She might not walk out of there alive, and Rick's chances weren't looking good either. But if she showed up with her boys in tow, she had no doubt Mark would follow through on his threat. He'd tried to murder her father, for God's sake. The man had no concept of right and wrong, no qualms about killing in cold blood. Rick would be no different.

She knew what she had to do. Dangerous or not, going alone was the only hope Rick had of staying alive, no matter how slim it was. Rick was her priority, because she couldn't deal with losing him. And God, to have to look Alexis in the eye and tell her that her father was gone…that was something she couldn't live with.

Kate took a deep breath and nudged Anderson. "Hey, can you move? I need to go to the bathroom."

Anderson obeyed immediately, and Kate slid out of the booth. She couldn't take her coat; it would look too suspicious. She was out of the booth and a step or two away when Montgomery called out after her.

She froze, just long enough to breathe, and then turned around. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

The eyes of every man at the table turned to look at her. "Yeah. Just have to use the bathroom. That okay with you?"

Her tone was sharp enough that the eyes of everyone except Montgomery turned down toward the table awkwardly. Kate lifted her eyebrows, waiting. Montgomery stared at her, and then nodded. Kate turned away and headed for the hallway leading to the bathroom.

The second she turned the corner she was looking for a way out. The bell above the front door made sneaking past the boys impossible, since they'd all turn toward the door the second they heard it open. It was a cop thing. Kate searched for another way out, striding down the hallway and past the women's bathroom. She heard the clank of kitchen utensils up in front of her, and when she reached the end of the hall she was staring into the kitchen.

There was a back door not far away, and Kate felt a rush when she saw that it was open and led outside to the dumpsters in the back. For once she'd caught a lucky break. Thank God. She strode toward the back door, casting a look at the cooks out of the corner of her eye, but all they did was glance at her as she passed them and then exited the back door.

The cold night air sent goose bumps across her skin immediately. She thought of her coat back in the booth, but she couldn't go back. The thin white blouse she had on would have to do. She wanted to go out front and steal one of the SUVs, at least grab one of the NYPD vests from the backseat, but she knew she couldn't go to the front of the restaurant. The boys would see her through the windows instantly.

Her eyes fell on the small cluster of cars in the parking lot in the back, and she made her way toward them, praying that by some miracle one of them would be unlocked. She could hotwire a car, but she couldn't pick the locks without a tool. She'd tried before; it only worked in the movies.

The Jeep Grand Cherokee was locked, and so were the Mitsubishi and the Honda. There was an old, beat up green Saturn next to the Honda, and when the driver's door opened after she tugged on the handle, Kate couldn't believe her luck. She had the car running in two minutes flat, and as she pulled out of the parking lot and into the street she glanced back in the rearview mirror long enough to see the silhouettes of her boys in the window.

X-X-X-X-X

"Do you miss her?"

Rick looked up at Storm, who was eyeing the writer distastefully from an armchair. The psychiatrist was holding the netbook in one hand, his Glock in the other.

"At the risk of getting punched, yes."

"What do you miss the most?"

Storm was playing a game. Rick knew that, but he couldn't resist. "Honestly? Her facial expressions."

Storm stared at Rick incredulously. "Her _facial expressions_?"

Before Rick could answer, the netbook beeped. Storm looked down at it, and Rick watched as a grin took over Storm's face. After a moment of staring at it, he looked up again.

"You won't be missing her for much longer."

Rick went rigid in his chair. "She's here?"

"Yes, she is. And she followed the rules, too."

The sinking feeling in the pit of Rick's stomach made him want to throw up. "What rules?"

"Just one. She had to come alone or you would die."

He was lying. Kate wouldn't do that. She wouldn't come alone. It was a blatant disregard of procedure, and it was so obvious she'd be walking into a trap…

_She'd do it for me._

Rick did the only thing he could think of.

"Kate!" he roared at the top of his lungs, his head thrown back. "Kate! Don't do it! Don't-"

Storm's fist crashed across Rick's jaw, and in the second it took Rick to blink back the daze of the punch, Storm slapped a piece of duct tape across his mouth. He leaned down into Rick's line of vision, slid the magazine of his Glock out to check his bullets, then slid it back in. He looked up at Rick.

"Show time."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate couldn't get out of the car. The engine was off, her gun was sitting in her lap, and she was as ready as she was ever going to be. But she couldn't get out of the car. Montgomery's expression was haunting her, the silhouettes of her boys wolfing down pancakes were too, and she closed her eyes for a second.

What would she do if they were doing what she was doing? What if Ryan's girlfriend was taken and he was ordered to come alone? What would she do if he did? She'd be pissed. She'd rail on him for going against procedure, walking into a trap, putting emotions before the job and justice…

But it was Rick. _Her_ Rick. How could she live with herself if she lost him? If she had to tell Alexis her father was gone? If she had to see the look on Martha's face when she found out her child had died before she had?

She pulled her Blackberry out, held it in her hands, and considered her options even though she already knew that she was about to walk into that house by herself. After an eternity, she sent the text to Montgomery. Just three words: _Track me. Sorry_. He would track her phone the second he got it. Kate got out of the car.

Her feet were silent as she stole up the street and then up the driveway. She entered the house through the front door, which was unlocked. Her Sig was ice cold in her hand, and when her feet hit the tile of the entranceway the realization of who was in the house hit her too. Her pulse rioted, and she had to take a deep breath before she started again.

Taking one step at a time, her Sig ready, Kate stole through the house. Down the hall, turn left, second door on the right. That was the library. There were no lights on, nothing to light her way except the full moon. She checked around every corner, behind her back, up in front of her, every second step. Perfectly trained. Perfectly competent. Imperfectly calm.

There was light streaming under the library door, just like there had been at the warehouse. Kate entertained the idea of another trick, but she couldn't wrap her mind around it. Something about the darkness, the silence, the way her gun felt in her hand…this was it. She opened the door, gun ready.

And there he was.

Rick was sitting in a chair in the center of the room, his hands and feet duct taped to the chair. His mouth was taped shut, and at the sight of Kate he started shaking his head and wiggling in the chair.

"Rick," Kate breathed.

This time, she stepped into the room, her gun raised, and checked behind the door. There was no one there, so she closed and locked it. She swept through the room, checking anywhere that was big enough to hide a man, but she found nothing and no one. After walking the entire area of the room, Kate ended up back at the door she'd locked. Rick was staring at her, still furiously shaking his head.

She lowered her gun and flew to him, her heart pounding and her eyes searching hungrily for any sign of injury. He was covered in bruises and blood, but breathing. Alive. Thank God.

She knelt in front of him and Rick started snorting around the duct tape, rocking his body in the chair. "What?" Kate whispered. She reached up and peeled the tape off of his mouth, muttering an apology for what undoubtedly hurt. The moment Rick could speak, he did.

"Run," he rasped.

Kate frowned as she ripped the duct tape off of his right wrist. "What? I-"

"Detective Beckett."

Kate froze. The voice was chillingly familiar. The same voice she'd been talking to on the phone. The same man she'd been hunting. The man who had been hunting her. She closed her eyes briefly. How the fuck had she missed him?

Kate opened her eyes and met Rick's gaze. She read the terror in his eyes, the desperation. She stood up slowly, and then turned to face her predator.

He smiled at her down the barrel of a Glock 17. "I'm so glad you could join us."


	20. Prey

_**It's short. Sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you :)**_

Beckett had been in the bathroom for a long time. Too long.

Roy didn't like it. Any of it. She was ignoring procedure, putting herself needlessly in harm's way, breaking evidence. She wasn't acting like the detective he knew, and her silence since they'd arrived at the diner had pushed him past professional concern. Beckett was extraordinarily private, and Roy knew that occasionally she would disappear long enough to find an internal balance again. He'd assumed that's why she'd been in the bathroom so long, but the longer she was gone, the more wrong it felt.

Roy nudged Anderson in the ribs. "Move," he commanded. "I'm going to check on Beckett."

Anderson slid out of the booth, and when Roy started for the bathroom he could hear the agent following him. He didn't object.

The women's bathroom was the second door on the left. Roy pounded on the door with his fist. "Beckett? You okay?"

He waited a beat, long enough for her to answer. When she didn't, he thumped against the door harder. "Beckett." It wasn't a question anymore.

Roy looked over at Anderson. The agent already had his gun out of its holster. Roy pulled his gun out too. After a three count, Anderson pushed the door open and Roy burst into the room.

The bathroom was empty. It was a small enough room that he cleared it in seconds.

Roy barreled out into the hall. "Call her," he ordered. Anderson had his phone to his ear in a second. Roy followed the hallway back to where it dead ended into a large kitchen on the right. Two cooks looked up at him curiously from over a stainless steel counter.

"She's not answering," Anderson called from behind Roy.

"Keep calling." He flashed his badge to the cooks. "Either of you seen a woman come through here? Tall, brown hair, white shirt."

The cook on the right, a greasy middle aged guy with a salt and pepper goatee, nodded to the open back door. "Yeah, she went out that way."

Roy bolted for the door. Anderson was hot on his heels, but when he got outside there was nothing there. Just the back of the restaurant, a pair of dumpsters, an old Chevy Cavalier…

"My car!" the goatee clad cook shouted, appearing in the doorway. "It's gone! That bitch stole my car!"

"Watch your mouth," Anderson snarled at the cook, his phone still up to his ear.

Roy's phone chimed, and he rushed to pull it from the clip on his belt. It was his text message chime. He flipped the phone open. The contact name _Beckett_ glared up at him, followed by three words: _Track me_. _Sorry. _

Roy swore again, and then looked at Anderson. "We've got to go. _Now_."

X-X-X-X-X

"Don't move," Mark warned. "You take that step to the right to protect writer boy from my gun, and you're going to realize just how human you really are. And you can't protect him if you're bleeding on the floor, can you?"

Kate knew he would do it. If she even so much as _leaned_ to the right to shield Rick, Mark would shoot her somewhere that would leave her in just enough pain that she couldn't move. Then he'd kill Rick right in front of her.

She stayed put, her Sig pointed straight at the psychiatrist's forehead, trying to ignore that his Glock 17 was pointed at Rick. Kate darted her eyes down his body and saw a hunting knife with a six inch blade resting in a sheath on his hip. Maybe it was the knife that he'd used to kill his first four victims. Kate lifted her eyes back up to meet his.

"Hello, Mark."

Mark DeLucas grinned at her. "Hello, Kate. You look good."

"Wish I could say the same to you."

Snark was _not_ part of the plan, but Kate couldn't help it. She'd totally underestimated the hatred that would take over after finally meeting her predator face to face. She'd never experienced the cold urge to kill quite like she was now.

Mark's grin widened. "A little cranky, aren't you? You want to borrow my phone to throw against the wall? Will that make you feel better?"

Kate met the intensity of his gaze head on and ignored the dig. "Put the gun down, Mark. It's over."

He shook his head. "No. It's definitely not over. Put _your_ gun down, Kate." Mark glanced at Rick, then back at her. "Or I kill him."

Kate didn't move. The tick of the grandfather clock in the corner of the library tapped out a rhythm on her brain, counting the seconds of her indecision. She could shoot him. But if she missed, if it didn't kill him instantly, if it wasn't _perfect_, Rick was dead.

"Kate," Rick called. "Just shoot him."

"She shoots me, I shoot you," Mark warned.

"It would be worth it," Rick retaliated.

Kate glared at Mark, who grinned back at her. "What do you think, Kate? Would it be worth it? A fair trade off, my life for his? Then you could be free of both of us."

"Do it, Kate," Rick murmured. "Shoot him."

The ticking of the clock was suddenly thunderous, but there was no decision to make. She couldn't. God, she wanted to, but she couldn't.

She lowered her Sig, and the ticking faded.

"Kate," Rick whispered from behind her. She heard the crack in his voice, but she wouldn't let herself linger on it. There hadn't been another option.

"Very good," Mark said approvingly, as if talking to a child. "Now, put your gun on the floor, and kick it over here."

Kate gritted her teeth, but she did it. Mark stopped the gun with his foot as it slid in front of him on the wood floor. He reached down, the Glock still trained on Rick, and picked up the Sig. He looked down at it, smiling, and then looked back up.

"You're a writer, Castle. Is it poetic or ironic to be killed by your girlfriend's gun?"

Rick was silent. Kate glared at Mark, who shoved the Glock in his belt. He lifted the Sig to point at Rick again.

"I like your gun _so_ much better, Kate."

"You don't have to do this," Kate reasoned. Unarmed, she was back to talking him down. "You can still walk out of here. I won't follow you."

"Walk out of here?" Mark repeated. "And what, leave you with the writer?"

"Would that be so bad?"

"You have no idea." Kate winced at his choice of words. The grin wasn't anywhere near Mark's lips anymore.

"This isn't about me," she said quietly. "It's about your wife."

"Alicia is dead. You're not. I can still save you."

"I don't need to be saved."

"You really don't get it, do you?"

She didn't. Kate knew the facts; she knew he'd fixated on her because she reminded him of his wife. But she still didn't _understand_ it. How had it even started? How had she not recognized that something was off about him?

"Why don't you explain it to me," she suggested. _Just keep him talking. Montgomery's bound to get here soon…_ "It started when I came to you that summer, didn't it? When I was upset about Castle reopening my mom's case?"

Something shivered across the planes of Mark's face. "I took some time off after she died. And my first day back, who walks through the door?" Mark let his eyes trail up and down Kate's figure, and Kate stifled a shiver. "You were wearing white," Mark continued. "Just like you are now."

"You remember that?"

"Of course I do. I remember all of our sessions. You were always one of my favorite patients. So incredibly complex. And not hard to look at either."

"Don't want to date her, huh?" Rick piped up. Kate glared at him. The last thing she needed was for Rick to bait Mark.

"You got a lot of nerve, opening your mouth," Mark said. "Considering it was your fault she had to come back to me in the first place."

Rick didn't answer. Kate wanted to look at him so badly, but she didn't. "Is that what this is?" she asked. "You're mad at him because he reopened the case?"

Mark moved his eyes over to meet hers. "He hurt you. You said it yourself. He'd been hurting you long before that, though. Not listening to you, putting everyone in danger because he was a bored little rich boy…tell him what you told me, Kate."

She didn't say anything. Mark jabbed his gun in the air toward Rick. "_Tell him_."

She took a deep breath, but didn't look at Rick. "I said-"

"Look at him," Mark interrupted. He was smiling again. "Look at him and tell him what you said."

Kate looked at Rick. He was staring up at her, his eyebrows furrowed, and Kate could hardly stand how awful he looked. He was bruised and bloodied, such a far cry from the man that smiled up off the back of his books.

"I said that I was afraid you made me less of a cop."

She looked back at Mark quickly, because the guilt taking over Rick's face was heartbreaking. Mark was still smiling. "And you meant it. He does make you less of a cop. Don't you see, Kate? He puts you in danger, he keeps you from doing your job the way you should. When you walked through my door again…it was like I was getting a second chance. I couldn't let it go to waste."

"So you stalked me."

"I kept an eye on you," he adjusted. "Just to make sure he didn't weasel his way back in and hurt you again."

Kate licked her lips. "And when I accepted his apology?"

"I couldn't believe it. After everything he'd done to you, you just…let him back in. But then, it wasn't your choice the first time, was it? I thought maybe your Captain and the Mayor ordered you to do it again."

"They didn't. I wanted him back."

"No. He manipulated you into thinking that you wanted him. I knew that when you went with him to that restaurant." Mark shook his head in amazement. "You went back to his place…I waited all night, Kate. I waited for you to come out, and you didn't."

The feelings of violation were overpowering. Her first night with Rick, their first acknowledgement, physical or otherwise, of something beyond professionalism, was tainted. Mark had been watching all along.

"How could you?" Mark pressed. "After he hurt you like he did, after you admitted to me that he made you less of a cop, which is the core of who you are…how could you?"

Kate was silent. He didn't wait long before he continued.

"I waited. I gave you a chance. I thought you might figure it out on your own. I thought it might be just a fling. But you took too long."

"So you started killing people?"

"I thought maybe if you had a case that really tested you, something that reminded you of how brilliant you were, you might realize that he was holding you back. That you're better than what he has to offer."

"And you have something better to offer?"

"What's better than your old life?" Mark asked, holding out his free hand. "All of this hurt, all of the mistakes you've been making on the job; they're his fault, Kate. Without him, none of this would've happened."

Kate shook her head. "You caused all this. You killed those people, you made me hurt…_you_, Mark. Not him."

"And you couldn't catch me, could you?" he countered. "You couldn't catch me because you were so wrapped up in him."

Kate stared at Mark. "What if you're right?"

Mark stared back. Kate could feel Rick staring at her too, but she kept her eyes on Mark.

"What if I am blinded?" she continued. "What if he is ruining my life?"

"He is."

"Okay. But what if I'm still blind because you stopped letting me fight it on my own?"

Confusion spread over Mark's face, and Kate seized the moment to take a step toward him. He went rigid, but she pretended not to notice.

"You told me once that we have to face our own demons," she said. "We can't let other people fight them for us; we have to do it ourselves. If other people do it, it means less."

"You remember that?"

"Of course I remember that." She gave him a soft smile and took another step toward him. "Mark, you saved my life in a lot of ways. You're really going to give up on me now?"

"If he dies, he can't hurt you anymore."

"No. If he dies, then he haunts me forever. He has a kid, Mark. That would haunt her the same way I'm haunted by my mom."

She watched as the truth of her words sliced across the room and right through Mark, hitting the psychiatrist part of him just enough that he realized she had a point. He knew every one of her weaknesses and had exploited them mercilessly, but she'd never been able to find one of his. Until now. She'd had it all along. _She_ was his weakness; his determination to save her clouded everything else, even the cruelty that drove him to violence. This is what she should've done at the hospital. Even before that; she should've given him what he wanted instead of fighting him.

She took another step toward him. "I have to do it myself."

Mark darted his eyes between Kate and Rick. "I'm not giving you this gun. You won't kill him."

"You're right. I wouldn't. But that's not what I mean. What if I need intensive therapy?"

"Intensive therapy?"

She nodded and took another step. "Yeah. Just me and you. Anywhere you want to go. I'll let you fix me. You're the only one that can."

"Stop." Mark swiveled the Sig over to point at Kate. She froze, her right foot lifted an inch off the ground to take another step. "Stop moving," Mark ordered. Kate lowered her foot. Mark stared at her, his eyebrows furrowed. "You would come away with me?"

"I would go as far away from him as you want to take me."

Mark looked at Rick, then back at her. "How do I know this isn't a trick?"

"I'll let you cuff me." She held up her hands, palms facing him, and then slowly removed the handcuffs from her belt and held them up. She tossed them, and they landed two feet in front of Mark.

"Kate," Rick said from behind her. "What are you doing?"

Mark turned the Sig back to Rick. "Shut up, Castle."

Rick ignored him. "Don't do this, Kate. Please."

"_Shut up_!" Mark roared, turning his gun back to point at Kate. "Put the cuffs on," he ordered. "Then we'll talk."

Kate moved towards the handcuffs. She felt his eyes on her every step of the way, and she had to fight a smirk. Mark DeLucas was a brilliant man and a brilliant criminal. As smart as he was, she shouldn't have been able to pull anything on him.

But she just had.

She crouched as if reaching for the cuffs, but instead planted one hand and swung her right leg out like a slide tackle, connecting with the backs of Mark's shoes and sweeping his legs out from under him.

Mark hit the ground with a surprised grunt and Kate pounced, reaching for the gun. He fought back with his free hand, closing his fingers around her neck. Kate choked as his fingers squeezed tighter, the gun still out of her reach.

"Kate!" Rick shouted.

Kate brought her right hand down onto Mark's throat in a chopping motion. The gagging noise that followed echoed through the library, and Mark's stranglehold loosened. Kate lunged for the gun, smashing Mark's wrist into the wood floor multiple times. His grip loosened, but the flailing of both of their hands sent the gun skidding just out of reach.

Kate punched Mark across the jaw, and pain shot instantly through her hand. He paused, reeling from the pain of her punch, and Kate seized her opportunity to yank the Glock out of his belt. Mark rolled hard, dragging Kate's body beneath his. Before Kate could aim the gun at him, he pinned her arms above her head. Kate flicked the gun out of her hand and across the floor toward Rick.

"Rick!" she shouted. If he could just get to the gun and point it at Mark…

X-X-X-X-X

Rick dove for the gun, falling forward with the chair since his body and legs were still taped. He strained his free hand forward, grasping for the gun. His fingers closed around the barrel and he spun the gun and then raised it to aim at Mark.

It was too late.

A terrible scream echoed through the room, and Rick felt his heart tear in two. "Hey asshole!" he roared.

He could see the blade shining in the light of the room as Mark turned, the knife poised above Kate. Rick squeezed the trigger. A brief look of surprise crossed the psychiatrist's face, and then he crumpled backward. The knife clattered harmlessly to the floor. The entire world stilled for a moment as Rick stared at the blood blossoming across the fabric of Kate's white shirt, the absolute pain in the expression on her face.

Rick dragged himself across the floor toward her as fast as he could.

"Kate. Oh God, Kate."

Her eyes were shut. Each breath was halting, shaky, and every time she inhaled her face screwed up into a wince. His eyes dropped to her stained shirt.

Christ there was a lot of blood. She was losing too much blood. This couldn't be good. There was no way this was good. The knife glittered inches away, covered in Kate's blood, and Rick reached for it. He used it to cut his left hand free of the duct tape, trying not to think about the blood that was smearing all over him. He pulled the rest of the tape off once his hands were free and shoved the chair away from him.

Rick pulled Kate's cell phone from her belt. His fingers fumbled to dial 911, smearing blood on the buttons. He held the phone up to his ear, his other hand pressing onto where the blood seemed to be coming from. Applied pressure stopped bleeding, right? Right?

"911, what's your emergency?"

Rick rattled off the address of the Hamptons, that there was a police officer down, that they needed immediate medical assistance. He watched as Kate labored to breathe, her eyes opening to look at him for a brief second and then fluttering closed again. He hung up the phone, leaned over her so that his face was close to hers.

"They're coming," he murmured. "You'll be okay, love. They're coming."

No answer; just quieter, more labored breathing. The wound was on the right side of her body, the entry point just below her ribs…how many vital organs were there? The liver? The lungs?

"Kate," he called desperately. "Stay with me, okay? Stay with me."

Her eyes flickered open. Of all the things to do, she chose that moment to smile at him. It wasn't much of a smile. Weak, barely even there, but she tried. Her lips moved, and he leaned forward to hear her.

"All…in…_"_

She finished with a pained gasp. He leaned away from her, horrified. She was saying goodbye. Fucking fuck, she was saying _goodbye_.

"No," he ordered. "Don't do that. You don't get to do that."

Her eyebrows furrowed, attempted to form her trademark glare. It was an epic failure. Her right hand moved feebly, and he focused on it to see all of her fingers tuck into a loose fist except her pinky.

God, she was beautiful. How was it that in the moment she was slipping away from him, she was the most beautiful?

"Pinky promise," he murmured. She tried to smile again, but it stopped short with a gasp.

Kate looked up at him, her eyes wide and terrified, and suddenly Rick was having trouble breathing too.


	21. We All Need Saving

_**Chapter title is a song of the same name by Jon McLaughlin. **_

Javier Esposito kicked down the door of Castle's library, splintering the wood along the door handle and the lock. He had his Glock ready as he barreled into the room, rapidly taking in his surroundings. Anderson, Ryan, and a dozen others were right behind him, but Javier wasn't the only one who stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what was in front of him.

A man he recognized from a driver's license photo was lying crumpled and still on the floor, with a bullet sized hole in his forehead. It was Derrick Storm. Or Mark DeLucas. Whatever the fuck his name was. It didn't matter.

What mattered was that Kate Beckett was a foot away from the dead man, her face screwed up in pain, a flood of red staining her formerly white shirt. Castle was cradling her against his chest, pressing his balled up shirt against her side to stem the blood flow. He had his face down by her ear, as if he was whispering something.

_Mierda, not Beckett._

It was Javier's first coherent thought. The initial shock was replaced by cop thought. "Officer down, we need immediate medical assistance," he barked into his radio. He couldn't stop staring at Beckett.

Castle looked up, his eyes wild with terror. Damn, he was beat up. "Esposito," he rasped. "Is there an ambulance here?"

"Outside," Anderson answered, because Javier was still describing where to send the paramedics. Javier glanced at the FBI agent and noticed that he'd paled noticeably. On the other side of Anderson, Ryan was staring down at Beckett in horror. The radio squawked that the medics were on their way.

Javier headed toward Beckett slowly, the voice from the radio ringing in his ears. Beckett's eyes opened, and she looked up at him as if she was high and couldn't focus. She was having trouble breathing. Javier saw the knife lying nearby, the blade covered with the same blood that was flowing out of his boss. There was so much _blood_.

He looked back at Beckett. Their eyes held, and Javier wanted to say something. He didn't know what. Her eyes fluttered closed, a whimper of pain escaping her lips and causing Castle to scoot closer to her, hover near her ear and whisper something. Javier had never heard Beckett whimper.

The paramedics burst through the doorway, past the crookedly hanging door that Javier had kicked in only a minute ago. Suddenly the paramedics were next to Beckett, taking her vitals, lifting her onto a stretcher, ripping open her shirt to look at the wound. Javier looked away, wishing he hadn't seen the brief flash of her bra.

He looked back when they were wheeling her away, following a few steps behind Castle, who was hovering as close to Beckett as he could get. Ryan and Anderson followed too. Somehow, in a miraculously short time, they were outside in the cool night air. Javier wished they would've covered Beckett's exposed skin, at least until she was in the ambulance. It was cold.

They were twenty feet from the ambulance when Montgomery appeared, pushing his way through a group of stunned officers and agents, only to freeze when he saw Beckett. After a moment the Captain jerked forward, coming up alongside the stretcher, and Javier watched Montgomery put his hand over Beckett's. She didn't open her eyes; she hadn't for a while.

The paramedics lifted her into the ambulance. Castle started to climb in after her, but one of the paramedics put his hand out to stop the writer.

"You can't come with us, sir. In fact, you need some medical attention yourself."

"I'm going with her," Castle argued. "She needs me."

"Sir-"

"If it means that much to you, _you_ can check me out," Castle interrupted. "But I'm getting in this ambulance."

The paramedic stared down at Castle for a minute, and then sighed. "Fine. But when we get to the hospital you're going to see a doctor."

Castle shrugged and jumped in the ambulance. Javier watched as the doors closed on his boss. His bleeding, barely breathing, possibly dying boss.

X-X-X-X-X

Ben Anderson watched the ambulance turn the corner at the end of the street, but even once it was out of sight his feet remained rooted to the cement of the driveway.

Kate Beckett was in that ambulance. He'd spent a week and a half with her, working one of the worst cases he'd seen in his eight years with the Bureau. Ben had been beyond intrigued by the detective who looked nothing like the female cops he'd met before. The fact that she was good at her job, _very_ good, in fact, was like getting a second candy bar from the vending machine when you only put in enough money to get one. Beckett was the whole damn package in one long legged, snarky, brilliant bundle. Ben was on the same page as Castle; women like Kate Beckett didn't come along every day.

Of course, that's what DeLucas thought too. And now, because DeLucas had decided to play sick savior, Beckett was fighting for her life.

Ben let his gaze roam his surroundings. Cops and agents were milling around in groups, talking quietly, but it was the huddle of the guys from the 12th precinct that Ben settled his eyes on. Montgomery was staring after the ambulance with a blank look on his face. Ben knew that look incredibly well. Montgomery was well trained, and he was in a position of leadership; the fear that was ripping at the insides of the Captain would never be outwardly expressed.

Ryan and Esposito, on the other hand, were a little less experienced. They were staring after the ambulance with the same kind of blank horror as their Captain. Their body language, however, gave them away. Their shoulders were hunched in defeat, their mouths were hanging open slightly, their arms rested limply at their sides. Ryan was the worst. While Esposito just looked shell shocked, Ryan looked downright terrified, as if he was eight years old and he'd just watched his big sister get hauled away in an ambulance.

Ben made his way toward them slowly. When he reached them and Montgomery looked at him, Ben held out the keys to one of the SUVs.

"Go," he said quietly. "I'll take care of everything here."

X-X-X-X-X

Just another scar, just like the one he'd found before.

That's what Rick kept telling himself as the ambulance flew toward the hospital; that the blood gushing out of Kate would end up as just another scar, something else for him to trace his fingers over as she lounged naked and relaxed in bed. The back of Rick's head smacked against the side of the ambulance for the hundredth time as the vehicle raced over a bump on its way to the hospital. Suddenly the sight of the oxygen mask over Kate's face, the never ending blood, the paramedics and the deathly pale pallor of her skin was too much; Rick closed his eyes.

_It was Sunday, a little after eleven in the morning, two weeks after their game and their first night together. They were in her apartment. He'd made tacos the night before and they'd played Monopoly until midnight, which was when Rick got tired of looking but not touching and decided that on top of a Monopoly board on the dining room table was as good a place as any to test Kate's determination not to be heard by her neighbors. _

_When they finally woke up the next morning in Kate's bed, Rick volunteered to make coffee. He reentered her bedroom with two mugs in his hands, but stopped in the doorway just to look at her. God, she was stunning. She was lying on her stomach with her head resting on her arms, the sheets draped over her hips. Rick let his eyes trail over her bare back and his gaze rested inadvertently on the top of her right shoulder where he knew there was a faded scar about two inches long._

_He made his way across the room and set the mugs down on the table that was by her side of the bed. Then he leaned down to press his lips to her scar. _

"_Good morning, beautiful," he whispered, and then kissed the scar again._

"_You're sentimental in the morning," she said quietly, and he couldn't miss the smile in her voice._

_He trailed his index finger over the scar instead of answering, leaning away into a sitting position next to her. She was still on her stomach. "What's the story behind this?"_

_She propped herself up on her elbows and looked over her shoulder at him. "What's the story behind what?"_

"_This scar."_

_Her eyes shifted down to look where he was pointing, then moved back up. "Not everything has a story, Castle. Sometimes a scar is just a scar."_

_Rick moved away from her and bent his right leg, so that his knee was in Kate's eye line. "See that?" he asked, pointing to a long scar on his knee. _

"_Yeah."_

"_I was twelve. I was fooling around backstage at one of Mother's productions and fell; cut myself on a steel grate. Seventeen stitches." He grinned. "Didn't cry once."_

_She smirked. "Of course not."_

_He moved, lowering himself on top of her and pressing his naked chest onto her back. He loved the way her skin felt on his. He kissed her scarred shoulder, and she tilted her head to give him access to her neck. He took it as an invitation. "When's the last time you spent the day in bed, Kate?" he whispered in her ear._

_He drifted a hand around to the front of her and cupped her breast. She hummed appreciatively and arched her back beneath his chest. "Long time ago," she murmured. _

"_Let's change that."_

_He rolled her over onto her back, and his lips were passing along her collarbone on his way down when she spoke. _

"_I was a rookie."_

_Rick leaned away and looked at her._

"_Just a beat cop," she continued, meeting his eyes. "It was a robbery gone wrong, and the bullet grazed me. I was lucky. A step to the right and it probably would've killed me."_

Rick opened his eyes.

That had been the first time he'd actually realized how close he'd come to losing Kate before he'd even known her. Now he knew her, loved her, and he was staring head on at the possibility of losing her just when he'd discovered how incredible it was to have her. 

X-X-X-X-X

"This is the third call tonight, Montgomery," Commissioner Brady's voice said gruffly in Roy's ear. Roy gripped his phone tighter and leaned against the brick wall of the ambulance bay.

"I know. It's Storm."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and then, "I thought you were working on that clue. Who'd he kill now?"

_Beckett. _

The thought raced across Roy's mind before he could stop it, and he was furious. She wasn't dead. She was in surgery. Emergency surgery. She'd lost a lot of blood. She was unconscious. But she wasn't dead.

"He's dead, Commissioner."

"Storm?" Brady demanded, and Roy had an image of him sitting straight up in bed. "Well I'll be damned. Beckett finally got him, huh? I knew she would."

"Not exactly, sir."

Roy couldn't forget how cold Kate's hand was underneath his right before they lifted her into the ambulance. Her eyes weren't open. There was no cocky _I'm fine, I'm just humoring them_ smirk on her lips that he'd seen so many times before.

"What do you mean not exactly?"

"Castle shot him. But…he got Beckett first."

"Castle got Beckett?"

"No. Storm did. Knifed her right up through the abdomen. She's in surgery. Southampton Hospital."

Another long pause, and then Roy heard the murmur from the other end of the line that matched everything he was feeling.

"Fuck."

X-X-X-X-X

Kevin Ryan had been watching Rick Castle pace across the waiting room like a lion in a cage for he didn't know how long. Ever since Kevin had seen Beckett bleeding and gasping on the floor back in Castle's library, time had blurred together; seconds seemed like hours, hours seemed like days, and there was a ball of terror sitting in the pit of his stomach that twisted painfully every time he thought of losing Beckett.

When he was twelve, Kevin's grandfather had died. The open casket funeral had been the stuff of nightmares for a twelve year old, but his mother held his hand the whole time. _Don't remember him like this,_ his mom whispered in his ear when they stood in front of the casket. _Think of your favorite memory of him. That's what you should remember. _

Kevin was trying desperately to conjure up an image of Beckett other than her pale face as they'd loaded her into the ambulance, the brilliant red of her stained shirt, the way her eyes wouldn't open and her mouth wouldn't move. But he couldn't. He stopped watching Castle when Esposito plopped into the chair next to him.

"You think she'll make it?" Kevin murmured after a long pause. He made sure his voice wasn't loud enough for Castle to hear. Kevin didn't look at Esposito, and Esposito didn't look at him.

"She better," Esposito muttered. "I can't be your boss."

"Richard?"

Kevin looked up to see Martha Rodgers hurrying toward her son, looking considerably less put together than she had the other times Kevin had seen her. Castle intercepted her into a tight hug when she was close enough. Kevin caught the wince that danced across Castle's face. The writer had gotten the shit beat out of him by Storm. DeLucas. Whatever. The son of a bitch was dead, and rightfully so.

"Are you okay?" Martha asked when Castle let her go and she got a good look at her son in his borrowed scrubs.

"Yeah. Looks worse than it is."

"You look awful, kiddo." Martha fussed over the butterfly stitches over his eye.

"Its fine," Castle muttered, waving her away.

Martha lowered her hands, studied her son for a moment, and then reached for his hand. "How is she?"

Kevin watched as the emotion that had been simmering under Castle's expression suddenly burst through the surface, but only for a moment. Castle ran a hand through his hair agitatedly, shaking his head. "They won't tell me anything. She's in surgery-"

"Mr. Rick Castle?"

There was a doctor standing a few yards away, a surgical mask hanging from around his neck and a scrub cap on his head. Kevin bolted to his feet, Esposito not far behind, but they still weren't as quick as Castle, who literally sprinted toward the doctor.

"How is she?" Castle demanded. "Is she…I mean, is she going to…"

Kevin could hear the thickness in the writer's voice, the lump in his throat that he was trying to talk around and couldn't. He was choking on the reality of the words.

"Miss Beckett-"

"Detective," Castle corrected. "Detective Beckett."

The doctor nodded. "Detective Beckett is being moved into recovery now. The knife punctured her liver and her diaphragm, but we've repaired both."

"So she's going to be okay?"

"We've admitted her and we're going to monitor her for a few days, but it's very likely she'll regain all normal functions."

"Oh thank God," Martha murmured, her hand over her heart. Kevin found himself thinking the same thing. Esposito pounded him on the back happily, and for the first time in hours Kevin let a smile form in the corners of his mouth.

"Can I see her?" Castle demanded.

"After we move her out of recovery, yes. She's already asked for you. Multiple times. I'll have a nurse come get you when she's ready."

Castle nodded. The doctor nodded once in return, then turned and walked away. Montgomery appeared down the hall and Esposito started for the Captain eagerly, a massive grin on his lips. Kevin stayed put, confused by the way Castle actually looked worse after hearing the good news.

The writer took a few steps forward toward a row of chairs, and Kevin watched him sink lifelessly into a slumped sitting position. Martha moved toward him, lowering herself gracefully onto the chair to Castle's left. Castle put his head in his hands, and after a long moment his shoulders started to shake.

"Richard…" Martha murmured so soft that Kevin barely heard it. Martha's hand moved around her son, and Castle's shoulders kept shaking.

Kevin turned away, realizing that his composure wouldn't hold if he didn't.

X-X-X-X-X

Rick hovered outside the doorway of Kate's hospital room like a shadow, reluctant to enter but unwilling to take his eyes off of her. She was lying motionlessly in the bed, her arms resting next to her sides. God, she looked terrible. Her skin was pale, lifeless against the white blankets. Dark, tired rings circled her eyes, and the way her hair was laid nicely across the pillow looked nothing like it usually did when he woke up next to her.

"Are you going to stand in the hallway all night, or are you actually going to go in and see her?"

Rick jumped at the voice in his ear, and turned to see a short, squat, dark haired woman smiling up at him. Her scrubs were pressed nicely, but a bit tight on her plump frame. She stuck her hand out in front of her, her friendly brown eyes fixed on Rick's. "Sally Mavens," she introduced. "I'm Detective Beckett's nurse for the night."

"Rick Castle," Rick introduced, shaking her hand limply.

"Are you a cop, Mr. Castle?"

Rick tried not to be surprised that she didn't know who he was. "No. Do I look like one?"

Sally let go of his hand. "Most cops that come to visit their partners hover outside the door like you're doing. I guess they figure if they don't get too close they don't have to feel anything."

Rick rested his eyes on the still form of Kate again. "Does that work for them?"

"Is it working for you?"

Rick looked back at Sally. "No."

She smiled. "Well there's your answer. She's still coming out of anesthesia, and she's on a lot of pain medication. They gave her a subarachnoid nerve block too, which means the nerves in her abdomen aren't registering that she's in pain. It'll minimize the initial pain as she comes out of anesthesia. She's pretty loopy; she most likely won't remember anything you say to her. But you should still go in." Rick didn't say anything. "She's asked for you, you know."

"The doctor said that."

"It's true. You were the first thing she asked about. Kept holding up her pinky too."

Rick laughed. It sounded strange, felt even stranger, and his eyes found Kate again. There was a long pause, but Sally didn't move. She didn't say anything either. She seemed to be content with letting Rick stare at Kate.

"She doesn't look like herself," he murmured at last.

"Of course she doesn't," Sally answered gently. "She just got out of surgery. And you know, in my experience, women who get out of surgeries like the one your detective just had usually like to see their men when they wake up."

Rick looked at Sally Mavens, who smiled up at him with her kind brown eyes and her dimpled smile. "You let me know if you need something, honey," she said next. And then she waddled away and down the hall toward the nurse's station. Rick watched her go, and then he slowly crossed the threshold of the hospital room.

He moved across the room quietly and stopped next to Kate's bed. He hesitated, afraid to wake her up, and then put his hand on hers. He shivered instantly; Jesus, her hand was ice cold. He tucked the blankets more tightly around her automatically, and he was leaning over her to tuck in the other side when she stirred.

Rick froze, his face just a few inches above hers, when her eyes fluttered open. Kate blinked at him sleepily, and then her lips slid into a lopsided smile. "Rick," she mumbled. Her voice was scratchy.

"Hey beautiful," he whispered, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"You look like shit," she drawled, then giggled.

Rick leaned away from her and sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, gosh, thanks," he joked, but there was no giggle behind his words. Kate was heavily medicated; she didn't realize how much pain she was going to be in soon, or how much emotional shit she was going to have to sort through. Rick, on the other hand, focused in on the dark circles around her eyes and the frailty audible in the beeping of the monitors surrounding the bed, and knew that their hell wasn't over yet.

But still, wasn't there time for one moment? Couldn't he block off one sphere of time and revel in both of them being alive and being together, marvel at the way that Kate Beckett had survived despite the horror of Derrick Storm? Couldn't reality wait, even if only for a moment?

"You look great," he said quietly.

"Liar," she challenged. She was smiling, and even if it was medicinally induced, it made Rick happy.

"You could use some sun," he amended. "You interested in running away with me, Detective? The Virgin Islands are beautiful this time of year."

Kate was still smiling. She lifted her head as if she was going to move, but she didn't. She looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I can't move."

"They gave you a nerve block," Rick explained. "It probably hasn't worn off yet."

"I've had one of those before," she informed him. She sounded like a child. "On my leg." She moved her hands up to the neck of her hospital gown, and pulled it away from her body so she could look down inside the gown at her body. Rick saw her eyes widen. She let go of the gown and looked up at him.

"Ow," she whispered.

Rick felt like he was going to cry. "I know," he murmured quietly.

She held his eyes for a long time. "This is going to suck, isn't it?"

Rick stared at her for a second, taken aback, but the beeping of the monitors reminded him just how much medication and anesthesia she had in her system. He nodded.

"Yeah. It's going to suck. Bad."

"No beach for a while," she said wistfully.

"We'll go when you're better. I promise."

"Pinky promise?" she giggled. Her smile was back, and for a second Rick wished she'd be this heavily medicated for a long time; when reality sank in, she wasn't going to be smiling anymore. He hated that she had to go through this, that there was another inch of light inside of her now covered in darkness.

"Pinky promise," he agreed. He didn't touch her. She frowned at him.

"You're not touching me."

"I…" he trailed off. "I don't want to hurt you."

For a brief instant, the lucidity of the detective he knew flashed across her eyes. "Don't treat me like I'm fragile, Castle."

His hands were on either side of her instantly, his face above hers as he leaned over the bed. "Okay."

The detective disappeared, and suddenly she was back to the drugged stabbing victim that had no idea she was going to be investigated by the IAB, that she might lose her badge, that she'd nearly died, that she wouldn't be able to shake the feelings of violation for a long, long time. He wanted to hug her, wanted to just hold her and never ever let go, because if he didn't let go then he couldn't lose her. Christ, he'd almost lost her.

Rick gazed down at her. "I want to tell you something, Kate. And I'm only going to say it because your nurse told me you wouldn't remember it."

"Ooh, deep dark secrets," she whispered.

"Not a secret," Rick corrected. "Just…" he sighed. "I love you."

Her eyebrows furrowed again, like she didn't understand. "Huh?"

"I love you."

She stared at him. "Oh. Well I-"

He clamped his hand over her mouth, and when she frowned up at him he shook his head. "I don't want you to say it back," he explained. "You're in a hospital bed and high out of your mind and I don't want to hear it unless you're sober and you mean it. So don't say it. Okay?"

She nodded. He moved his hand, and she was opening her mouth to say something when Martha's voice floated into the room from the doorway.

"Really, Richard? The poor woman's been out of surgery for less than an hour and you're already on top of her?"

Kate giggled. "Busted."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate woke up to a stab of excruciating pain. The pain radiated through her entire abdomen, and her hands flew to cover the area instinctively, as if she could somehow will the pain away. She couldn't. She closed her eyes, fighting the hot tears that were coming unbidden, but she couldn't. Fucking Christ, it hurt. The tears started spilling down her cheeks as she winced, gritting her teeth and trying and failing to breathe. Oh, God. Oh, _God_.

"Detective Beckett?"

Kate's eyes flew open to see a chubby dark haired woman peering at her from next to the bed. Another wave of pain washed over her, an incredibly sharp twinge slicing through her abdomen, and a soft moan slipped through Kate's lips.

"How bad is the pain?" the nurse asked softly.

Kate exhaled through her nose sharply. "Bad," she answered, and instantly regretted it. It hurt to talk. Hurt to breathe. Everything hurt. Being alive hurt. She didn't want it anymore. She wanted something else. She wanted it to be over. Kate looked at the woman, hands still clutching the middle of her body, wishing she could curl up into the fetal position and disappear.

"Your nerve block is wearing off," the nurse explained. "Don't worry; I've already got the pain medication in your IV. It'll kick in soon."

Kate didn't have the strength to nod, let alone say thank you. She closed her eyes. Everything in her revolved around the searing pain. It was all encompassing, blurred the lines of everything she knew, and she didn't have the strength or the desire to consider the implications of her thought that maybe she would've rather bled out in the library than go through_ this_.

She felt something on her cheek, and opened her eyes to find the nurse dabbing at her tears with a tissue. "I know," the nurse murmured quietly. "I know it hurts."

The pain got worse, maybe at the realization that she was so helpless she couldn't even wipe away her own goddamn tears. The nurse smiled down at her, a broad, kind smile that made her cheeks dimple. "It'll get better," she murmured. "Soon the pain will go away and then you'll get to go home with your man."

Kate frowned, confused, and followed the nurse's gaze to the other side of her bed. Rick was slumped in a chair by the bed, fast asleep, his hand reaching out and resting on the bed next to her. Seeing him brought on a fresh wave of pain, pain beyond the agony of what her body was going through. Everything came crashing back. Rick had killed a man; she was responsible for the deaths of seven people; her dad was in a coma; she'd ignored procedure; she was in an unbelievable amount of pain because a psychiatrist had shoved a six inch blade up the center of her body. Derrick Storm was dead, but he wasn't even close to being gone.

The tears started pouring out of Kate's eyes uncontrollably, blurring the sight of Rick, and she closed her eyes. She tried to steady her breathing, reminding herself that the drugs would probably knock her out; hospital drugs were always stronger than the ones the doctors gave you to take home. Soon she'd be in a pleasant fuzz, she'd forget it all again, she'd be blissfully unaware of the awful reality of her life.

Kate gritted her teeth around the pain and waited, because the promise of the meds was the only thing that kept her from wishing that Mark DeLucas had finished the fucking job.


	22. Falling Off The Face Of The Earth

_**Just a couple of things: **_

_**Whew. Kate has been through an awful lot. And as much as I would love to hand her a happy ending and send her off on her merry way, I can't. Not yet. It just wouldn't fit. Too much has happened for her to be instantly okay, and there's a lot of aftermath these characters have to deal with. So, I'm going to let them deal. Just remember in case you start to get angry with Kate that the poor woman is doing the best she can the only way she knows how. Take pity on the poor thing :( And don't forget – I like a happy ending as much as anybody :)**_

_**Your reviews have been marvelous. Thank you. As always, I will appreciate and encourage more. **_

_**Thanks to the DFMB. This story would be nothing without you guys.**_

_**Chapter title is a song of the same name by Matt Wertz. **_

"Don't," Kate said to Rick, shaking her head.

He stared at her patiently, his hand still on her arm. "Let me help you."

"I can do it."

"Kate-"

"_Don't_," she said again, and this time it was the same voice that she used to warn a suspect that she wasn't messing around.

Rick let her go and watched as she pulled herself out of the hospital bed she'd been occupying for five days. Five days of unadulterated hell. When Rick woke up the morning after Kate's first night in the hospital, the transformation was already complete. Giggling, affectionate Kate was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Kate took her first step and swayed, and when Rick's hands darted out to steady her she gave him a murderous look. He met it head on, willing to be as stubborn as she was, and she took another step, still glaring at him. The first few steps in the morning were always slow, but once she got going, she was fine. Even if she wasn't, she would never admit it.

There were no complications, thank God. The doctors had told them yesterday that her recovery was coming along beautifully, better than normal, in fact, and that in two days they'd release her from the hospital. Rick couldn't wait to get her home. He hoped that being out of the hospital and back in the loft would bring her back, but some part of him knew that they were a long way from banter and kitchen counters.

"Detective Beckett," Dr. Mitchell's voice said brightly, and Kate and Rick both looked at the door to see the red headed surgeon smiling. "Up and moving?"

"It's Kate," she answered. Rick snapped his eyes up to look at her. He couldn't miss the tightness in the way her lips stretched over her teeth, or the defiance in her eyes that practically dared the surgeon to challenge her. "And yes. It feels great."

"Excellent," Mitchell said, stepping into the room. "No pain?"

"None," Kate said quickly.

"A little toward the end of the med cycles," Rick corrected, earning himself another murderous glare.

Mitchell nodded. "That's normal. You're already ahead of schedule, Det…Kate."

"You're discharging me in two days?" Kate asked.

"If your progress continues in this manner, yes."

"Then I want to be off pain meds by then."

Rick and Mitchell both stared at her. Kate stared right back. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," Mitchell said. "You're already moving along rather quickly, and we don't want to push it-"

"I can handle it," Kate interrupted. When Mitchell didn't answer right away, she spoke again. "It's my choice, isn't it? Whether or not I want them?"

She already knew the answer, so it wasn't really a question; it was more of a reminder, and Rick wondered if Mitchell picked up on it too.

"Yes," Mitchell confirmed. "It is your choice."

"I don't want them."

"As your doctor, Detective-"

"_Kate_," she interrupted. Her suspect voice was back. "And I appreciate your concern, Dr. Mitchell. But I'll be fine."

Mitchell knew a lost cause when he saw one, so after a long pause he nodded. "All right. I'll let the nurses know."

He left, and Kate studiously avoided Rick's eyes and took a step forward. Rick reached out and grasped her elbow.

"Kate."

She didn't look at him. She pulled her elbow out of his grasp. "What?"

"I know you want to be back to normal, but-"

"Don't go there," she answered, turning around to face him. It was a slow turn, but the look on her face said it all. "I don't need a pep talk, and you can't change my mind. Let it go."

The hurt washed over him, from his head to his toes, but he didn't let go of her elbow. "Why won't you let me help you?" he asked her quietly.

She looked him right in the eye. "You can't help me."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate was sitting in her hospital bed, staring out the window that was a couple of feet away, trying to ignore that Rick was staring at her. He stared at her all the time. Hovered, worried, fussed. It made things worse. If he didn't care so much, it would've been easier to shut him out and deal with everything the only way she knew how. She wasn't that lucky. He cared, probably too much, and every time she snapped at him and he got that wounded look on his face she felt like the demon mistress from hell. It was better to just sit in silence and ignore him.

"Beckett."

Kate looked toward the door, where she saw Montgomery framed in the doorway. "Captain," she greeted. The word sounded wrong coming from her mouth, but she didn't want to think about why.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

He nodded, then looked at Rick. "Castle, can I speak to Detective Beckett in private for a moment?"

Rick got an odd look on his face, but he didn't argue. "Of course. I'll go get a cup of coffee." He looked at Kate. "I'll be back in ten minutes?"

Kate shrugged. She saw the hurt shiver across his face, but there was nothing she could do about it. Rick left the room after one last look over his shoulder at her, but Kate didn't meet his eyes. Montgomery gave her a look after Castle was gone, and Kate ignored that too. She looked out the window again.

"You're getting discharged soon?" Montgomery asked.

Kate looked at him as he lowered himself into the chair Rick had been in a moment ago. She nodded. "Today. As soon as we get the paperwork."

"You ready to be out?"

"I was ready a week ago."

A ghost of a smile played across Montgomery's lips. "I'm sure. Just take it easy once you're out, okay?"

Kate just nodded. She didn't want it from him either. The worry and the pity and the shit that everyone thought helped but didn't. Then again, she didn't really know what the hell she wanted. Sometimes she wanted what she'd asked for the night after she found out about her father; she wanted Rick to whisper in her ear, to hold her and love her, she wanted to be taken care of. The moment she reached for him, though, something else took hold, something she couldn't fight, and suddenly she didn't want anyone near her, especially him. She felt like a goddamn pendulum.

Montgomery was shifting awkwardly in his chair, and Kate fixed her eyes on him pointedly. He wasn't here to check on her. Something was going on.

"Sir?" she prompted. "Is there a reason you needed to talk to me?"

"Yes. I know this is supposed to be a day of celebration, so I'm sorry I have to do this now."

"Do what?"

"I assume Castle told you he's been cleared. The DA has decided not to press charges, since Castle shot only to save you."

Kate nodded. "Yeah. He said that this morning. Isn't that good news?"

"Yes." He stared at her for a long time, and then sighed. "The bad news is that although Castle isn't being held responsible, the department has decided that someone has to be."

Kate stared at him. "Castle wouldn't have had to shoot DeLucas if I hadn't gone in alone," she said quietly. The guilt was overpowering, and it was one of the reasons that she couldn't look at Rick anymore. She'd seen him in his suit and tie, seen him after he'd been interrogated like a criminal just for trying to protect her. Protect her in a situation that was completely, totally her fault.

Montgomery nodded. "It's not a routine inquiry anymore, Beckett. It's a full investigation."

Kate felt sick to her stomach. Full investigation. That meant everything, including her relationship to Rick. He shadowed her every day, and he'd affected her actions as a detective. Their relationship was about to be put under the microscope.

"When's the hearing?"

"A week from tomorrow."

Kate nodded numbly in response. She stared at her hands. Part of her was hoping that Montgomery would just leave it at that, and let her have some time to reestablish herself before Rick appeared again, but there was no such luck.

"They've already talked to us all, Beckett. Me and the boys and Anderson…they even talked to the goddamn Mayor. We made it abundantly clear that they need to take into account the entire case. We've all got your back."

Kate's fingernails were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. "I appreciate that, sir, but I broke the rules. I forced Castle into a position that a civilian should never have to be in. If the IAB makes an exception for me, they're going to have to make exceptions for other detectives too, and the department can't afford to start doing that."

"Your case involves special circumstances-"

"And why is that?" Kate challenged, finally looking at him. "Because I let DeLucas get to me? Because he went after my dad? Or is it because I'm dating Richard Castle?"

"It's because I should've kept a better eye on you. Anderson and I both should've kept a better eye on you." Montgomery stared at her levelly. "You're a good cop, Detective."

"Good cops don't get investigated by the IAB."

"You know that's not true. Sometimes we have to make impossible choices, Beckett. And sometimes those choices come back to haunt us."

Kate stared at him, something in his words striking a chord within her. She made the connection with a rush of horror. "You're being investigated too, aren't you?"

His silence was answer enough, and Kate felt a rush of nausea creeping up on her. It wasn't just Rick. It was Roy too. She'd ruined her own career, maybe. She'd put Rick through something he didn't deserve to go through. But her own Captain…she may have singlehandedly cost him any hope of a future promotion.

"These things have a way of working out, Beckett," Montgomery said kindly. "You didn't do anything I wouldn't have done if I was in your shoes. You did what you had to do. And I promise you I'll do everything in my power to make sure this works out for you."

Kate looked back out the window, wishing he would go away and knowing he wouldn't until Rick was back. She felt the walls closing in around her, suffocating her, but there was nothing she could do to stop them.

X-X-X-X-X

Alexis jolted awake to the sound of a strangled scream.

She sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding, with the covers clutched to her chest. She scanned her bedroom frantically, looking for the source, until it sunk in who it was.

Kate.

Alexis sighed sadly as she glanced at the clock. 3:13. Poor Kate. She'd been home from the hospital for a week now, and every night, usually more than once a night, she woke up screaming. Dad said the doctors had written a prescription for sleeping pills that would induce a dreamless sleep, but Kate refused to take them. She wouldn't take anything except five Aleve a day, and sometimes she wouldn't eat anything either. Dad hated it, but he wouldn't fight with her.

They did fight though. Constantly. Not normal fighting, not yelling or even the bantering that Alexis had always found so amusing. It was something else. Fighting that wasn't really fighting. Pointed looks and touches that were like an awkward tug of war, because Dad was always pulling her toward him and Kate was always pushing him away. They had this new way of saying each other's names too, and Alexis was sure that sometimes they had entire conversations without ever saying anything except their names.

Alexis pushed the covers off and padded toward her bedroom door. She stopped when she got there, listening.

"Kate…"

"Rick. I just want a drink."

There it was. The names. When Alexis didn't hear anything else she pulled her door open and peered out into the hallway. Kate was disappearing around the corner of the hallway to go downstairs, leaving her dad standing in doorway of his bedroom.

"Dad?"

He turned around quickly, and when he saw Alexis he smiled.

"Hey pumpkin. Did she…?"

"Wake me up?" He nodded. Alexis shrugged. "It's no big deal. Is she okay?"

He looked over his shoulder, as if he could catch one last glimpse of Kate. When he turned back around, he was wearing the same expression he had whenever Kate pushed him away.

"I don't know."

He'd always been honest with her. This was no different. Alexis closed the distance between her and her father as quickly as she could at three in the morning and hugged him. She was careful because she didn't know if his bruises from Storm were still healing, but he held onto her tightly. After a long while, Alexis pulled away.

"Should I talk to her?"

He ran his hand through her hair. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not? I only had one day at home with her before I had to go back to school. I miss her."

"She's not exactly herself right now."

"Yeah. I noticed."

Alexis stared up at her dad, and after a long pause he sighed. "Okay. But don't bother her, okay? If she doesn't want to talk, then don't."

"Okay."

He planted a kiss on the top of her head, and Alexis gave her dad one last smile before she headed downstairs. Kate was in the kitchen, her hands planted on the counter and her head bent. Alexis lingered on the stairs, wondering if maybe this wasn't such a good idea, but Kate looked up before she could sneak back upstairs.

"Alexis," she said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat.

Alexis smiled. "Hi."

"Did I wake you up?" She straightened instantly. "I'm sorry…"

"No, it's fine," Alexis interrupted quickly. "I was up reading."

It wasn't a smile, but the corner of Kate's mouth turned up a bit. "At three in the morning?"

Alexis shrugged. She was a terrible liar, but she didn't want Kate to feel bad for waking her up. "Yeah. For class. Shakespeare. I wish Benedick and Beatrice would just get over themselves and get together already."

Silence hung in the air for a minute, and then Kate actually smiled. "_Much Ado About Nothing_, huh?"

Alexis grinned. "You've read it?"

"In college. It's one of my favorites."

Alexis padded into the kitchen toward Kate, still smiling. "Me too. I like Beatrice. There's this kid in my class, he says Beatrice is a…witch. Because she's so mean to Benedick, you know? But she's just trying to protect herself. I think it's admirable."

Kate stared at the teenager. "You do?"

"Yeah. I mean it's a good thing her friends are tricking her, or she'd never know she's in love with Benedick. But still. I like her. She's strong and independent. I admire women like that."

Alexis gave Kate the most meaningful look she could muster, wanting the detective to understand that half the reason she liked Beatrice so much was because she reminded her of Kate. Kate didn't answer. Alexis stopped on the other side of the counter, and they avoided each other's eyes for a while. The silence got louder with every passing second, until they both spoke.

"Well, I-"

"Kate-"

They both stopped. Alexis felt the blush rise over her cheeks, and Kate nodded her head. "Go ahead."

Alexis took a deep breath. "Um…I just wanted to say that I'm glad you're okay." Kate lifted her eyebrows, and Alexis stared down at the counter as she stammered out the rest of her thought. "I mean I know you and Dad have only been together for like a month or two but…" Alexis trailed off and finally worked up the nerve to look up at Kate. "I like you being here with us. You're part of the family."

Nothing changed in Kate's expression, so Alexis looked back down at her hands. "I was afraid I was going to lose you," she whispered.

Kate didn't say anything for a long time, and when she finally did her voice was wavering so badly that Alexis looked up at her, afraid she was crying. She wasn't. "I'm sorry."

Alexis shook her head. "It's not your fault. It's that crazy guy's. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I'm glad you're okay."

Kate bit her lip, and Alexis was moving before she even really knew what she was doing. She made her way around the counter and wrapped her arms around the detective gently. Alexis closed her eyes, relishing one of the rare opportunities she got to hug Kate. She tried to ignore how stiffly Kate was hugging her back, and wondered if this was how her dad felt when Kate pushed him away.

X-X-X-X-X

Kate's hearing with the IAB was at ten o'clock on a Tuesday morning.

Paleness and lack of a smile aside, she'd cleaned up nice. Rick eyed her as she sat across from him in the waiting area, her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap. She had a simple black pantsuit on, a lot more understated and conservative than she usually wore, but that was understandable. Her heels were a little shorter too. She'd done her hair and put on makeup for the first time since she'd gotten out of the hospital, but even when she was so obviously supposed to look like Detective Beckett, she didn't. There was something missing. The confidence, maybe. The poise. The I-could-kick-your-ass-and -smile-the-entire-time sass that had enthralled Rick from day one.

"Detective Beckett?"

Kate's head snapped in the direction of the voice, and Rick's gaze followed. An official looking man in a gray suit gestured toward the door next to him. "We're ready for you."

Kate rose, and Rick stood up with her. "I'll be right here," he said, quiet enough that the man in the suit couldn't hear. Kate's eyes darted toward him, and for the first time all day Rick saw a tint of fear.

She nodded. "Okay."

It was only one word, but her tone of voice made him realize that it was the closest to letting him in she'd gotten in days. He wanted to reach for her but he knew he couldn't, not with the suit guy watching. He smiled instead.

"You'll be fine."

She nodded at him once, a professional nod more than anything, and then disappeared. Rick stared at the closed door after her, so lost in thought that he jumped when Montgomery appeared next to him.

"Castle."

"Jesus!" Rick hissed, stepping away from the Captain in surprise. He saw Ryan and Esposito behind Montgomery, and he gave them all an incredulous look. "Where did you guys come from?"

"We've been here," Montgomery answered. "We knew Beckett wouldn't want a scene before she went in, so we waited."

Rick nodded. "Right. That's nice of you. I mean a little creepy, but okay."

Montgomery didn't smile. "How is she?"

Rick's humor faded instantly. It hadn't been anything more than a feeble attempt anyway. "Not good."

Montgomery waited, and Rick continued after sinking back into the chair he'd been sitting in before. "She won't take her pills, so she doesn't sleep. When she does, she has nightmares. She won't eat. She barely speaks." Rick paused, exhaling heavily, and his next words were more of an escaped thought than a sentence. "Every time I touch her she flinches."

Montgomery sat down next to him. "And the counseling?"

Rick shook his head. "She's only had two sessions. She won't talk to him. She goes to visit her father every afternoon and she won't let me come with her, so I thought maybe she was talking to him. Just cause he can't say anything back, you know? But the nurses said she just sits in the room. Doesn't say a word."

Rick glanced at Montgomery in time for the Captain's next question. "What about you, Castle? You talking to anyone?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah. Twice a week."

"Good."

Nobody said anything for a while, and the only sound was the shuffling of Ryan and Esposito's feet as they moved to sit in the chairs across from Rick and Montgomery. Rick stared at his hands, thinking about Kate's conservative black suit, short heels, and expressionless eyes. Fucking IAB. If ever there was a time that Kate needed the security blanket of her job, it was now.

"What's the worst case scenario?" Rick asked abruptly.

Montgomery looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean for Kate. This hearing. What's the worst that could happen?"

Montgomery sighed. "She could be dismissed. Or forced to resign. Maybe even bumped back down to patrol so she's not a detective anymore."

Rick stared at the Captain. Not a detective anymore? _Dismissed_? Damn DeLucas. Even when he was gone, he was making Kate's life a living hell.

"But they wouldn't do that. Right?"

Montgomery stared at Rick for a long time before he spoke. "Best case scenario, she gets a formal reprimand and is suspended with pay."

"For how long?"

"Until she's cleared by a psychiatrist. That means she'll have to talk eventually."

Rick froze. "A _psychiatrist_? She won't talk to another psychiatrist."

"She's going to have to, if she wants her badge back."

Rick ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "She won't."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate had never been on the other side of an interrogation. She already hated it.

She was alone on one side of a long table, having lowered herself gracefully into the high backed chair waiting for her. On the other side of the table were three men, one of whom was the man who'd gestured her in. Kate spotted the large manila folder with her name on it on the table in front of the man directly across from her, and for a second she couldn't breathe. The IAB had folders for every cop on the force. Kate wondered what was in hers, and how long they'd been collecting information. Was DeLucas the reason it was so full? Or were there other things in it too, like the awards she'd won and her arrest record?

"Good morning, Detective Beckett."

Kate smiled politely at the man across from her. He had dark hair and dark eyes, and his smile revealed a row of very straight, very white teeth. "Good morning," she returned.

"Are you ready to begin?"

"Yes."

The dark haired man looked to his right. "Fletcher?"

The man in the gray suit shifted in his chair and then looked at Kate. "Detective Beckett, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

Kate nodded. "I do."

The dark haired man nodded. "Excellent. Let's begin. In the interest of making the best decision for you and the department, we'd like to hear your side of the story from the beginning."

Kate gave him a blank look. "The beginning?" she repeated.

"Yes. We'd like you to start with why you went to see Dr. DeLucas in the first place."

Kate's heart stopped. Why she went in the first place? They…they wanted to talk about her _mother_?

The dark haired man opened the file. "Your file indicates that you first went to see Dr. DeLucas because of the psychological difficulty of accepting your mother's unsolved murder. Is that correct?"

A sharp stab of anguish raced through Kate, starting beneath her ribs and racing through the rest of her. This couldn't be real. This had to be a nightmare.

"Yes," she managed to get out.

"And that was affecting your performance on the job?"

Kate swallowed. "I'm sorry, but what does this have to do with Dr. DeLucas's death?"

The dark haired man smiled kindly. "Detective Beckett, we're aware of your exemplary conduct record. However, we're concerned about your psychological competence."

"My…competence?"

"This isn't the first time something personal has affected your work. Homicide is a difficult assignment, Detective. We're merely investigating to see if this is the best assignment for you, given your present personal circumstances."

"What circumstances?"

"It's undeniable that this case has had a considerable effect on you. Your father is in a coma. The civilian who shadows you, a man you're romantically involved with, was forced to shoot another man to save your life. We're concerned that these occurrences may be the indirect results of the difficulty you've had coping with your mother's death. We need you to start from the beginning, so that we can determine if you're psychologically capable of continuing to be a detective for the New York City Police Department."

Kate couldn't breathe anymore, but suddenly breathing didn't seem to matter.


	23. Cry

_**Chapter title is a song of the same name by Kelly Clarkson.**_

Kate sat motionlessly on the couch in Rick's loft, waiting for it to sink in. She was in her favorite black work pants and a simple red sweater, and she'd done her hair and put on makeup. A pair of plain black pumps sat next to the couch. She'd curled her feet underneath her body, and was biting her nails absently.

She glanced down at her watch, then went back to biting her nails. In an hour, she'd be downtown on Hudson Street, listening to the decision the IAB had made over her hearing. In an hour, she'd find out whether or not she was allowed to be Detective Beckett again. The official IAB decision could change everything, but Kate knew that for her, things had already changed. _She_ had already changed.

"Hey."

Kate looked up to see Rick standing in the doorway of his office, his hands in his pockets. She tried to smile, but all she managed to do was press her lips together. "Hey."

He made his way toward her and sat down next to her on the couch. He reached for her hand and pulled it away from her mouth so that she couldn't bite her nails anymore. Kate watched as he put her hand palm up on his knee and started to trail his fingertips over her palm, down across her wrist, and then back up.

"Are you nervous?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"No."

He didn't say anything, but she knew he didn't believe her. She didn't believe herself either, but it wasn't the kind of nervous Rick thought it was.

"Kate." Rick's voice was soft, and she looked at him. He lifted his hand and pushed some of her hair away from her face, and then cupped her cheek. "You're the best detective this city has. They'd be fools to let you go."

She leaned away from his hand. "I broke the rules."

"You didn't have a choice."

"We always have a choice. Cops make sure people follow the rules. What happens if we don't follow them ourselves?"

Rick gave her a meaningful look. "You did what you had to do. You saved my life."

Kate bit her tongue, because telling him that it was her fault he'd been in danger in the first place would just start a fight. Instead, she nodded and avoided his eyes. Rick pulled her toward him gently and kissed her temple.

"They'll give you your badge back, Kate. You'll be back to yourself in no time."

Kate bit her lip. Which self was that, exactly? The Detective Beckett self? How could she go back to that as if nothing had happened? Being there, sitting in front of the IAB, reliving every mistake she'd made…she didn't see how she could ever go back. She'd fucked up. Not like she'd forgotten to read a suspect Miranda rights or rushed into a tense situation unprepared. She had the blood of seven people on her hands. Blood that wouldn't come off, no matter how hard she scrubbed. Bradley's innocence was gone, Alexis had come dangerously close to losing her father; and Jesus, Rick had _killed_ a man.

It wasn't just Detective Beckett she couldn't go back to. It was everything. How could she live a life with Rick and Alexis, knowing that her job put them in danger? Knowing that her failure had almost cost them everything, and that all her future failures would too? How could she accept a role in Alexis's life without recognizing that her job could force Alexis to face the same loss that had haunted Kate for over a decade?

What if she didn't get her badge back? Life without the Detective title in front of her name was so foreign, so unfamiliar, that she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Beyond the unknown was something even more terrifying, the realization that if she had to resign or if she was dismissed, maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing. Maybe it would be…a relief.

The terror ate away at her, but Kate made herself ignore it. She reached for Rick's hand and squeezed it as she leaned away from him. "Buy me coffee on the way?"

His smile was blinding, and Kate fought against the guilt as he brushed his lips against hers before answering. "Of course."

X-X-X-X-X

Rick was asleep next to Kate, his head tipped back against the couch. Alexis was in the chair next to the couch, curled into a ball and also sleeping. _Top Gun_ was flickering across the screen of the television. Kate had chosen the movie, but she wasn't watching it. The remnants of two massive pizzas from Italiano Joe's were spread over the coffee table, joined by empty soda cans. They were the leftovers from the celebration of the good news from the IAB.

_Two months of paid administrative leave_ the dark haired man had said to Kate. _In those two months, you'll be required to visit a departmental psychologist twice a week, and we'll keep an eye on your progress. The psychological evaluation we requested has led to a diagnosis of Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. Your psychologist will be working with you to alleviate the symptoms so you're ready to return to work after your leave._

Kate had repeated it all to Rick, word for word, and he'd given her a hesitant look when she'd mentioned therapy, as if he was waiting for her to refuse to do it. She hadn't. She didn't say anything except what they'd told her, and then she let him get swept away in his excitement over the good news. It hadn't been hard to plead exhaustion when he asked why she wasn't more excited. Aside from her daily visits to her dad, the meetings with the IAB were the only times she'd been out of the loft. Being out in the real world, being forced to confront what she spent most of her time trying to forget…it wore her out.

They'd come back to the loft and passed the news on to Alexis, who had suggested a movie night with pizzas from "their place". Kate had nodded numbly, managing a smile, and then they'd ended up here: Rick and his daughter asleep, probably from the exhaustion of worrying so much. Kate couldn't have slept if she wanted to.

The thoughts she'd pushed away earlier had started seeping into her mind again, spreading slowly and distinctly, sticking to her brain like liquid glue. It coated everything, drenched everything, until Kate could think of nothing except what she didn't want to think about.

What if she wasn't a cop anymore?

What if she walked away from it all? Away from the murder, the victims, the evidence. Away from the way her soul split every time she stepped under that yellow crime scene tape. What then? DeLucas hadn't just broken her; he'd ruined her confidence and competence, her ability to see her job as a way to help people instead of a potential threat to her own existence and the peace of mind of those around her. What would happen if she just…walked away?

She looked over at the sleeping form of Rick, and the history of their relationship started to flicker across her mind the same way the movie was flickering on the screen in front of her. She'd met Rick as Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. The reason they'd even had a relationship at all, regardless of the fact that it was a strictly professional relationship for a long while, was because she was a detective. She was his muse because she was a detective. Half the reason he found her so goddamn attractive was because she was a detective.

_I fell for Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD._

He'd said that. Said exactly that to her on the floor of the library in his mansion, the same library that now haunted her dreams at night. He hadn't fallen for Kate Beckett. Not Kate. _Detective_ Kate Beckett.

_I fell for who you are, Kate._

What if she couldn't be that person anymore? What if she didn't have it in her? She'd seen it happen before. Earl Hufstetler, who'd been in homicide back when she was just a beat cop; she'd practically idolized him. Then one day there was a really bad drive-by shooting; four kids were killed. When the case was closed, Earl shocked the department by retiring. He'd always liked Kate, and when she'd asked him why he'd been upfront.

_Sometimes you just lose it, Beckett. There's only so much of this job you can take before it eats you alive. I gotta get out before I lose more of myself._

She hadn't understood then. But she understood now. She was beyond eaten alive, and she had nothing left to give. How could she bring herself to wake up every morning if she was waking up for death?

Would Rick even want her anymore? When the only reason they had a relationship, when the person he'd fallen for was gone, what would be left? Why would he stick around to find out? Especially after she'd brought his child so close to the brink of being an orphan.

The panic rose like a tidal wave, washed over her coldly, and when it ebbed away Kate knew she couldn't wait for the moment when he didn't want her anymore. She had to cut him off at the pass, make it easier on both of them. But where could she go? Where could she run to that offered her something different than the life she'd fashioned for herself?

The face floated into her brain, surrounding her with the promise of what she needed. The one person left that reminded her of before DeLucas, before Rick Castle, before the NYPD, before her mother's murder.

Kate slid off the couch, padded quietly away from the slumbering forms of Rick and Alexis. She grabbed her phone off the counter and then headed upstairs, into Rick's room and then his bathroom, and closed the door behind her. She hit the speed dial number with a shaking finger, and sank onto the floor against the door with the phone pressed to her ear.

It rang three times, and then the deep, familiar voice that she'd known for decades floated over the line, sounding surprised but pleased.

"Hi," she said in return.

The voice murmured something else, something that Kate should've laughed at, but she didn't. Instead she let her head fall back against the door, closed her eyes, and said something else.

"I need to see you."

X-X-X-X-X

Dr. Matt Jackson flipped through Jim Beckett's chart absently, his eyes scanning for any sign of a change as he entered the man's hospital room on his rounds. There were no signs of brain activity, no changes in-

"Dr. Jackson."

Matt looked up to see Detective Beckett standing before him. She'd been in her father's room every day for the past week or so, and every day she'd looked pale and exhausted. Today, however, she looked different than usual. Lost. Maybe even a bit scared.

Matt had heard, of course. He read the papers. Detective Kate Beckett, muse and rumored girlfriend of famous novelist Richard Castle, had been stabbed by the serial killer that had been terrorizing the city. When Beckett started visiting her father every afternoon for hours at a time, the nurses had started to talk. She never spoke to anyone; just sat in silence for hours at her father's bedside. Castle never joined her, though apparently the nurses had seen him lingering at the end of the hall once or twice, well out of eyesight of the detective.

Three days ago, Matt had asked Beckett about permanent care for her father. She'd listened to Matt's explanation of the options with a blank look on her face, and then murmured something about needing to think about it for a few days. The fact that she'd actually spoken to him when he walked in the room tipped Matt off that she might be ready to talk about it.

"Detective Beckett," he greeted, smiling. "How are you?"

The detective didn't return his smile. Matt noticed the dark circles under her eyes. "I'd like to finish our discussion from the other day," she answered calmly.

"Of course," Matt said kindly, stepping more fully into the room and closing the door behind him.

Beckett licked her lips and glanced at her father, then back at Matt. "I'd like him to go to St. Thomas."

Matt nodded. "St. Thomas is the best facility in the region in regards to caring for coma patients. It's an excellent choice, Detective."

"Call me Kate," she corrected. "When's the soonest you can have him transferred?"

Matt glanced at his watch. Nine in the morning. "If you sign the paperwork now, we can have him transferred this afternoon. There's another patient down the hall who is also going to St. Thomas."

"Then I'd like to sign the papers, please."

X-X-X-X-X

A knock on his office door brought Roy Montgomery's head up from the paperwork he was buried in, and he grinned when he saw Beckett in the doorway.

"Beckett," he greeted her, leaning back in his chair. "Come in."

She did, and Roy noticed as she turned to shut the door behind her how thin she'd gotten. When she turned to face him he took in the sallow tint of her skin, the way her eyes seemed to be a darker shade than he was used to. God, she looked awful.

"I heard the news you got from the IAB yesterday," he told her. "Congratulations."

She smiled dimly. "Thank you." Roy wondered for a brief moment why she didn't sit down, but she spoke before he could ask her. "I have something for you." She produced a sheet of paper from somewhere, setting it on his desk in front of him. He looked down at it, read the first line, and froze.

"What is…?"

"It's my letter of resignation."

Roy looked up at her, thunderstruck, his mouth hanging open. "Resi…what?" She waited, knowing that he'd heard and was just surprised. Roy leaned forward and rested his forearms on his desk. "Beckett, I know you're having a hard time, but don't do something now that you're going to regret later."

"I'm not."

Roy shook his head in disagreement. "I know it doesn't seem like it now, but things will get better. Talking to someone about how you feel will probably help-"

"Yeah, because that worked out really well for me the last time, didn't it?"

The razor-sharp edge in her tone made Roy lean back in surprise, and though his cop brain told him that she wasn't herself right now, he was still a little hurt. Beckett stared at him evenly for a moment, her hands shoved in her coat pockets, and then spoke in a gentler tone.

"With all due respect, sir, I didn't come here for a pep talk. I'm just dropping this off."

"No you're not."

That stopped her. "What?"

He held the paper out for her. "I don't want it."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "It doesn't matter whether you want it or not."

"I won't accept this until after your leave is over," Roy said decisively. "If you want to resign in two months, then you can bring your ass back in here and hand me this letter. But I won't accept it before then."

Roy Montgomery stared at his best detective, his favorite detective, and Kate Beckett stared right back. After the longest ten seconds of his life, Beckett snatched the paper from out of his hand.

"Fine. See you in two months."

X-X-X-X-X

Rick got off the elevator at Manhattan General feeling better than he had in weeks. Kate had left the loft at eight this morning. She'd said she wanted to be out in the world for a bit, wanted to be with people again, and she'd even mentioned that she might stop by the precinct. She'd insisted on going alone. Although he would've preferred to go with her, Rick was thrilled at the prospect of Kate wanting to be out of the loft. He was sure that the relief of not losing her badge had pulled her at least partially out of the black hole she'd been stuck in.

Rick had assumed that Kate would drop by the hospital to see her father while she was out, probably at her usual time. He'd come by the hospital to surprise her. Maybe he could even talk her into going out to dinner somewhere. It was about time they had a night to themselves without DeLucas and the IAB hanging over them.

He made his way down the hall toward Jim Beckett's room, but stopped dead in the doorway.

The bed was empty.

The blankets were folded nicely at the end of the bed, the monitors were turned off, the curtains were pulled shut over the window on the far wall. Jim Beckett was not in his bed.

Rick kept his eyes on the bed, as if Jim would suddenly appear, but when nothing happened he stumbled into the hall. "Nurse?" he called, spotting a nurse a few yards away. "Nurse!"

"Can I-"

"Jim Beckett," Rick interrupted when he reached her. "Where's Jim Beckett?"

"Who?"

"Room 1721, Jim Beckett. His daughter, Detective-"

"Mr. Castle?"

Rick turned around to see Dr. Jackson standing behind him, a chart in his hand. "Dr. Jackson," Rick said. "Where's Mr. Beckett?"

Jackson furrowed his eyebrows. "He was transferred this afternoon."

"Transferred?" Rick sputtered. "What do you mean transferred?"

"For permanent care at St. Thomas. Detective Beckett didn't tell you?"

Rick stared at the doctor. She hadn't told him. She'd signed papers, had her father transferred, and she hadn't even told him. Hadn't asked him to be there.

What else was she not telling him?

"What do you mean permanent care?"

Jackson sighed. "The damage is too severe. Barring a miracle, Jim Beckett is never going to wake up. St. Thomas specializes in long term care for coma patients."

It hit Rick like a tidal wave. "She's saying goodbye," he said in disbelief.

"She's making sure he's taken care of-"

Rick shook his head. He was already turning back to the elevator, and he already had his phone to his ear to call her. "No. She's saying goodbye."

X-X-X-X-X

Kate zipped her rolling suitcase shut and set it by the foot of Rick's bed. She glanced around the room, wondering if she'd forgotten anything. Her eyes fell on the shirt of his that she'd worn to bed last night still puddled on the floor, and she felt a stab of pain underneath her ribs. She put a hand to her side and sucked in a breath, lowering herself onto the edge of the bed to rest for a minute.

The loft was empty and quiet. For half a second she'd considered leaving without saying goodbye, but the second the idea popped into her mind she shoved it away. She couldn't do that. Even if only because she wanted to see him one more time. Besides, if she didn't say goodbye, he'd turn the entire country upside down looking for her, and she didn't want that. She wanted a clean break, because she couldn't handle anything else.

She'd booked her flight last night. Her flight confirmation was in her purse, which was on the floor next to her suitcase. Her letter of resignation was in her purse too.

It hit her suddenly, what she was about to do, and the suffocation of separation was nearly unbearable. She didn't want to walk away from Rick. But what choice did she have? She couldn't be in New York anymore. She couldn't be in the city with her mother's tombstone and her father's lifeless body; she couldn't see Rick without remembering what she desperately wanted to forget.

She heard the front door slam shut and her name being called. It was Rick's voice. She listened to his feet on the stairs and then Rick appeared, slightly out of breath. He stopped when he saw her, his hands resting on the wood frame of the doorway.

"Hey."

She managed a tight smile. "Hey." She stood up, still holding her side because the pain was suddenly worse. Seeing him made a feeling she didn't understand rise from the pit of her stomach all the way up into her throat.

His eyes darted over and rested on her suitcase, then moved back to her. He furrowed his eyebrows. "You going somewhere?"

She swallowed. "Yeah."

Her voice told him something, she knew it. He studied her. "Were you going to tell me?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

He lowered his hands from the frame of the door and slid them into his pockets, taking a step into the room. He was blocking her exit. She wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

"Dr. Jackson told me about your dad."

Kate stared at him for a moment, wondering when he'd talked to Jackson but too afraid to ask. She didn't want to know. She licked her lips. "St. Thomas is the best there is."

"I'm sure it is. But…you couldn't tell me?"

"Everything is already taken care of."

"But I-"

"Don't," she interrupted. "Don't make this about him. Because it's not."

"Then what's it about?"

"Me. I can't do this anymore. I can't be here."

"Be where? The loft? New York?"

"Both."

She watched as it sunk in, his eyes roving over her face. "Tell me where you want to go," he murmured after a while. He was trying so hard to smile. "I'll take you anywhere. I'll rent a plane, and we can go to the beach like we talked about…"

She was shaking her head. "I'm going alone."

That stopped him, but only for a moment. "Well I can still rent a plane. The pilot will take you anywhere you want-"

"I've already got a ticket."

The desperation was clear on his face now. "Where are you going?"

"To stay with a friend."

"When are you coming back?"

Kate bit her lip and broke eye contact, cursing the moisture invading her eyes. She hadn't cried since she'd been in the hospital. No way in hell was she about to start now.

"You are coming back…aren't you?"

She couldn't look at him. If she looked at him she would lose it, she'd spill every ounce of fear and uncertainty and she couldn't do that, she _wouldn't_, and Jesus Christ he was making this so much harder than it had to be.

"_Kate_."

She finally looked at him. She swallowed it away, everything she wanted to say, and inhaled slowly. "This never worked, Rick."

"What are you talking about?" he sputtered, his hands thrown out wide. "It _did_ work. We were fine until-"

"Until DeLucas?" she finished. "Things are different now."

"Not _that _different," he countered. "You and I, we're still the same. Nothing has changed-"

"Everything has changed. You just don't know it yet."

Stalemate. They stared at each other, and Kate was struggling to control her breathing. The pain in her wound was worse than it had been in days, and it was a battle to keep her breathing from turning into gasping.

"So that's it?" he asked after an eternity. "You're just going to pack a bag and leave? I don't even get a say?"

Kate lifted a shoulder. "What is there to say?"

Rick closed the distance between them rapidly. "Everything. Kate…" He reached for her, but she shrank away from his touch. He dropped his hand, staring at her as if she'd just slapped him across the face.

Kate turned away from him and reached for her purse. She slung it over her shoulder, then reached for her suitcase. When she straightened he was still looking at her, and Kate was horrified to see that his eyes were wet. "Don't go, Kate."

She squeezed the handle of her suitcase. "I have to."

"Stay with me. Please. I'll give you your space, I'll sleep on the couch, I'll buy you a goddamn pony, just _don't_ _leave_."

"Rick-"

"I need you," he interrupted. "I went through hell too, and I need you here with me. I can't get through this without you."

Kate pressed her lips together. She was _not_ going to cry. "I can't."

"Can't? Or won't?"  
"Both."

She brushed past him, her suitcase rolling behind her, and she was halfway through the door when he called out after her.

"I love you."

Kate froze. The fear ate at her heart like a wild animal, and she closed her eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. _Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale._

She turned around; shook her head. "No, you don't."

He swallowed. "You said you were all in. You pinky promised."

Kate licked her lips and looked away. She teetered on the brink of her decision, one foot over the edge, and then her wound ached and her brain caught up with her heart and she looked back at him resolutely. She made the leap before the words even came out of her mouth.

"I lied."

X-X-X-X-X

Katie's voice when she'd called had tipped Tyler off. Something was wrong. Then she'd told him she was coming, out of the blue, to stay with him…that worried him. But for some reason it was the fact that she'd agreed to let him pick her up at the airport that bothered him the most. It wasn't the woman he knew. She'd never let him pick her up from the airport before; she'd always insisted on finding her own way to his place. He'd never objected, because that's who she was and God help him, he adored her for it. But this time it was different. Something was wrong. _She_ was wrong.

Tyler was waiting much farther away than he wanted to, but the security measures at airports were so ridiculous now that he couldn't get any closer. He was rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes, doing an excited little dance like a five year old that knew he was getting a puppy for Christmas and was just waiting for his parents to bring it in, big red bow and all.

Except she was definitely not a puppy. And she'd definitely punch him if she knew he'd compared her to one.

A crowd suddenly poured out of the doors to the baggage claim area. He stood on his toes, looking over the tops of people's heads, and smiled at the benefits of being six feet, four inches tall. For one thing you could see over crowds. For another, he practically towered over her…which was saying a lot given her incredibly long legs.

Funny how things still revolved around her, even though he wasn't ten years old anymore.

He saw her then, and moved toward her instantly. He was ten yards away when she saw him too, and they both stopped without really knowing why. Something that wanted to be a smile curved her lips imperceptibly, and a smile that was so very real pulled on his mouth. He closed the distance, stopped two feet away, and took her in.

She wasn't herself. He could tell. Twenty years was a long time, and he knew her inside and out. She was pale, her eyes were dim, her shoulders were slumped. Even so, she was still arrestingly beautiful.

He held his arms out for her. "C'mere, Maverick."

The nickname curved her lips into a more genuine smile. She closed the distance between them with one step of those long legs and melted into him, just _melted_, her head fitting perfectly in that space on his chest that was right above his heart.

Tyler Harrison hugged Kate Beckett and inhaled the scent of her hair with closed eyes, refusing to think about what God awful occurrence had broken his childhood best friend enough to bring her back to him.


	24. Better Day

_**Thanks to the DFMB for beta. Especially the lady in red, who knew where my Kate and Rick wanted to go long before I did. Hugs.**_

_**There are only two more chapters after this one, and then Hunted comes to a close. That being said, identity crisis, self destructive behavior, denial, and questionable decisions are the name of the game for Kate in this chapter and the next. She's in a bit of a struggle with herself. It's dark. Consider that your warning. If it's not your thing, that's totally fine. Come back for chapter 26. You'll like the end, I promise. Otherwise, DeLucas is making his last stand (from beyond the grave - bastard). Let's see if Kate lets him win, shall we?**_

_**Chapter title is a song of the same name by Thriving Ivory.**_

Tyler's beachfront house was just like Kate remembered from the last time she'd come to visit him in Malibu. It was a single story ranch, a living and dining room connected into one massive space. The kitchen was off to the left, segregated from the living and dining area by a long black granite counter. To the right was a hallway, which led to two sizeable bedrooms and an incredibly large bathroom.

Kate looked around at the leather furniture and the dark, masculine colors that dominated the house and smiled at how little had changed. "I thought you were going to redecorate?" she murmured when Tyler stopped next to her, her suitcase in his hand. He smiled down at her.

"I couldn't figure out what I wanted. You want to do it for me?"

She shook her head. "No. I like it the way it is."

Her eyes settled on the French doors directly across from her, and she made her way toward them. When she pushed them open the smell of the Pacific Ocean hit her full force, and she stepped out onto the wooden deck that ran along the back of the house. It was dark out, and the moon was suspended over the ocean majestically. Kate inhaled, closing her eyes as she focused in on the sound of the waves crashing into the shore.

"Straight for the beach," Tyler murmured in her ear. "Why am I not surprised?"

Kate smiled. "I'm only friends with you because your backyard is the beach."

Tyler laughed appreciatively. "Well, regardless of why you're here, I'm glad you are. Come on, I'll get you some food."

He caught her around the waist to pull her back into the house, and Kate gasped in pain. Tyler's fingers had pressed directly onto her still healing scars. Kate went rigid, her hands flying up to clutch her middle, and Tyler had his hands off of her in a flash.

"Katie? What is it? What's wrong?"

After a few deep breaths, Kate straightened. Tyler hovered close to her, his expression equal parts worried and guilty. "I'm fine."

He shook his head. "Are you forgetting I'm a surgeon? Don't bullshit me. What's wrong?"

Kate stared at him. She hadn't wanted to tell him. At least not right away. The look on his face told her that he wasn't going to drop it until she at least told him something, but instead of forming the words that would hurt to say, Kate lifted her shirt up just far enough for Tyler to see her scars.

"Jesus," he breathed. He reached for her and trailed his fingers over her skin. Tyler looked up at her. "What happened?"

"Knife," she answered simply.

Tyler's eyebrows furrowed over his green eyes. "Knife? Who came at you with a knife?"

"I'm a cop. Who do you think?"

That's why she hadn't wanted to tell him. That look on his face right there. The one he got whenever he remembered that her job put her in danger. God, he looked like he'd just been knifed himself. "Katie," he murmured, stepping toward her, and Kate shook her head instantly.

"Don't, Ty. I don't want to talk about it. Not yet. Okay?"

He studied her for a minute, one of his hands resting on her hip. "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"How long ago did this happen?"

"Long enough." She gave him a look.

He moved before she could and placed a kiss on her forehead. She wasn't even surprised. He'd always been like that. He reached down and intertwined his fingers with hers.

"What do you want to eat?"

X-X-X-X-X

Tyler woke up at one in the morning to the sound of a scream.

He bolted up and sprinted into his guest room. When he got there he saw Kate sitting straight up in bed, her chest heaving as she panted. She looked at him like she didn't know who he was, and Tyler held his hands up.

"Katie," he called softly. "It's okay. It's just me. Just Ty."

She stared at him blankly for another moment, and then her shoulders slumped and she reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Tyler moved to her instantly, crawling onto the bed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her toward him so that she was curled into his lap like a child. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and nuzzled into his collarbone, and Tyler kissed the top of her head. The silence hit a deafening crescendo before Tyler spoke.

"You're having nightmares." There was no answer except Kate's breathing, which was still a step faster than normal. Tyler tightened his hold on her. "What are you having nightmares about?" No answer. "Does it have something to do with those scars?" Still no answer. "Katie, what happened?"

"Please don't," she finally whispered into his collarbone. "I can't. Not yet."

"You're scaring me."

"_Please_, Ty."

"Is this why you came out here? Something bad happened back home and you needed to get away? You needed somewhere to go?"

Kate sniffed and nuzzled in closer to him in response. Tyler kissed the top of her head again.

"You run away from home, Maverick?"

Kate nodded.

X-X-X-X-X

He'd known her since he was ten years old. She was two years younger than him, so she was only eight when they'd first met in the park. He'd been playing tag, and she'd been building castles in the sandbox until some punk kid knocked hers over. Tyler had seen it happen, and he could remember feeling outraged. He hadn't even known her, but he'd walked straight over and shoved the castle wrecker out of the sandbox. Then he helped Katie rebuild her castle. They'd been best friends ever since.

He didn't have any sisters, just three older brothers. She didn't have any siblings at all. Their relationship had worked seamlessly from day one for exactly that reason. He'd always had the innate desire to protect her the same way he had the first time he'd ever laid eyes on her. Katie was willing to let him look after her, but she looked after him in her own way too. As a result, they grew up together in the midst of a comfortable, platonic relationship.

Tyler had never even considered the idea of dating her until his senior year of college.

They had taken a trip for Spring Break with a group of their mutual friends down to Panama City Beach. The last night they were there, they'd found each other at a huge bonfire beach party. They were both sober, since they'd drank their fair share over the week and were a little tired of the party scene. He'd asked her to go for a walk, and she'd accepted with a smile, one of those smiles that lit up her entire face.

When she'd stumbled over a sea shell twenty minutes later, he'd grabbed her hand to steady her. For some reason he hadn't let go once she was stable. They walked a long way down the beach, hand in hand, and Tyler could remember being confused by the new feeling in the pit of his stomach. He'd felt it plenty of times for other girls, but never for Katie.

They lingered under a pier, away from the raging parties going on all down the beach. She sat down in the sand so that the tide came up and covered her toes, and he sat next to her, closer than he usually would have. She'd admitted she wasn't looking forward to him leaving in six weeks for California. He was going to spend the summer out there working, and then he was starting med school at UCSF in the fall. For some reason her disclosure had made his heart start thumping, and so when she'd looked over at him he leaned forward and kissed her.

Tyler remembered it vividly, perfectly; what it felt like to kiss Katie Beckett under a pier in Florida with the moon hanging above their heads and nothing in the world to weigh them down. He'd known her since she was eight, but somewhere in the time that had passed Katie had stopped being a child and started being a woman. A woman who knew how to kiss really, really well, and seemed to like kissing him as much as he liked kissing her.

He'd kissed her deeper and she'd tugged him closer. It was like they'd released the Hoover Dam, and suddenly he couldn't keep his hands to himself and neither could she. Fingers tugged on bikini string ties, tugged on swim trunks, and he pressed her back onto the sand as his heart started thumping faster…

And then Chloe Thomas and Dylan Hartford had staggered under the pier, looking for their own spot, and things had ended as abruptly as they'd started.

He was leaving six weeks after Spring Break to live on the other side of the country. Something so new definitely wasn't conducive to such a huge distance, and so they'd ignored it. They stayed friends, though the relationship was maybe a bit flirtier than before, and Tyler, despite the distance, had to convince himself every now and then that they'd made the right choice. Even those moments faded after a while, and they'd spent the better part of the last ten years in the same platonic but affectionate relationship as before.

And now here she was in his arms with scars that were still relatively new, and Tyler couldn't figure out what the hell had happened to his Katie.

She was acting the same way she had after Johanna's death; quiet, detached, reluctant to talk about anything other than surface small talk. Whatever had happened back in New York, it hadn't been good. Katie had reverted back to the same person she'd barely escaped ten years ago.

It worried him, because if she wasn't talking to him, her oldest friend, then who was she talking to? At least she'd come to see him, which was her way of telling him she needed him without saying a word. He was dying to know what had happened, dying to fix it the same way he'd fixed her sandcastle, but he knew he couldn't push her. It would only shut her down more. Instead he would wait, be there for her the way she needed him to be, and then someday, hopefully not too far in the future, she'd open up. Until then, he'd give her space.

When he tried to slip out of the bed after she finally started to fall asleep again, Katie grabbed his hand. He stopped and looked down at her, and she tugged him back onto the bed.

"Stay with me," she whispered.

He'd never been able to say no to her, especially when she looked so lost and helpless. She pulled him down so she could curl into his side, and Tyler wrapped his arms around her and held her the way she needed to be held.

X-X-X-X-X

Ty wasn't there when Kate woke up. She'd been in California for eight days, and he'd been there every morning when she woke up. She found a note on the pillow next to her that said he'd gone for a run, and so she made coffee and wandered out onto the deck.

Ty didn't have to work until later, and Kate had made him promise that he wouldn't call off work just to be with her. She was sure there were all kinds of reasons she'd done that, but she didn't really want to think about them. She was getting really good at blocking thoughts that popped into her head, almost as good as she was at blocking rushes of emotion that suddenly jumped her at random moments.

She wasn't so hot at controlling herself when she was sleeping though.

Nightmares. Jesus. Most of them were of Mark DeLucas. Mark DeLucas shoving a knife through the center of her body and the blinding pain that followed and made her wound ache. Mark DeLucas holding a gun on Castle, Mark DeLucas forcing prescription drugs down her father's throat even though that's definitely not how it had happened. Those were the dreams that made her wake up screaming, the dreams that reminded her of why she'd lied to Rick and told him she didn't want him, and then hopped on a plane like the coward she was.

And then there were the other dreams. Christ, she had goose bumps just thinking about them. They weren't normal. She'd never had dreams like those before in her life. But she was having them now.

They usually started the same. A lingering kiss around a smile, his hands gripping her hips and tugging her closer. The flush of heated skin, a sheen of sweat, the way he sounded when he said her name in that low voice in her ear that nearly pushed her into starting without him because Jesus God his voice did crazy things to her. The rolling through the sheets as they fought for dominance, the sheets eventually twisting at their feet and neither of them caring because they were too hot to be covered anyway. The trail his tongue made, starting on her neck and down, lower and lower until she was squirming and he was smiling because he knew nobody had ever quite done her the way he could do her.

And then the world stilled and even in her dreams Kate could feel her heart thumping wildly. The way he hovered over her, the way the word _please _fell from her lips desperately, the way he kissed her right as he slid into her and she gasped into his mouth because _God, yes_ her entire world was going blurry and she was wrapping her legs around him to pull him inside of her as deep as he could go.

Those were the dreams that made her wake in a cold sweat, her skin flushed, a blossom of heat forming in her abdomen and making her toes curl as the very, very real memories flashed across her vision like a slideshow of the connection she was longing for. It was him, of course, that she wanted. Rick. She wasn't one for words, for talking. Right now every defense she'd spent years building was down, and if he were to appear in front of her she wouldn't have known what to say and would've had to just show him, show him the only way she knew how, that she was a coward but he was her one and done and goddamn it she couldn't undo him, couldn't let him go, no matter how hard she tried.

Except he wasn't going to appear in front of her. She'd told him she wanted out, she'd told him it was over, she'd…oh, Jesus Christ. Kate lifted the mug in her hands to her lips, the coffee burning her tongue, and suddenly she was back on the beach instead of tangled and panting with Rick Castle, left with nothing but an ache in the wound underneath her ribs, an ache in her chest, and an ache at the juncture of her legs.

She saw someone running down the beach, a man, and it only half registered that he didn't have a shirt on until she realized it was Tyler.

He was sprinting, his body gleaming with sweat, and as he rapidly closed the distance between himself and the deck she was standing on, Kate couldn't ignore the lift in intensity of at least one of her aches. He came to a halt at the foot of the stairs of the deck, his hands on his hips, and he tilted his head back with a squint as he panted to catch his breath.

Oh, fuck.

Her eyes trailed over him. Over the calf muscles that were probably that defined because he ran in the sand every morning. The baggy maroon shorts that made the tan of his skin seem to be goddamn glowing, the abs…oh Christ, the abs. The broad shoulders, the strong jaw, the…

_Stop it, Kate._

What was she doing? What was she going to do? Sleep with her best friend of twenty years and imagine that he was the other man she was thinking about, the man she couldn't get out of her head, the man that she'd walked away from?

Rick didn't love her. He loved what she had been. What she couldn't be anymore because she'd failed so spectacularly that seven people had died and her father was in a coma and the most incredible sixteen year old she'd ever met had nearly lost her father like Kate had lost her mother, which God knows was the worst thing that could've happened.

"Katie?" She snapped out of her thoughts and looked at Tyler. "You okay?"

Kate nodded, careful to keep her gaze on Tyler's eyes and not…well, anywhere else.

X-X-X-X-X

Tyler pulled his front door shut behind him, tossing the keys to his Audi A5 onto the table next to the door.

"Katie?" he called. No answer. Tyler made his way toward the French doors, rubbing the tightness out of his neck. She was probably out on the deck, or on the beach. That's where she usually was; she hadn't left the house since she'd gotten there. Which in of itself wasn't totally unusual; she typically stayed in when she came to visit him, spent the day lying on the beach with a book or napping. It was the fact that she hadn't yet wanted to go out in the evening, once he was home for work, that was odd.

Of course Katie wasn't exactly herself this visit. It had been eight days, and she hadn't spoken a word about what she'd run away from back in New York. She was smiling more than she had the first few days, but something was still off. He was still trying to be patient.

He stepped out onto the deck and was greeted with the sight of her curled up in one his deckchairs, fast asleep with a book hanging loosely from her grasp. Tyler smiled. She looked so peaceful lying there like that; so much like the Katie he had known before they'd lost Johanna. Suddenly she whimpered and twitched in her sleep, and the peacefulness disappeared.

Tyler made his way toward her and sat on the edge of the deckchair, then lifted a hand to run it through her hair. "Katie," he called softly. She bolted awake with a yelp, her hand flying toward her hip, and Tyler knew she'd been reaching for a gun that wasn't there. It was habit; she did it every time she woke up from a nightmare too. "Hey, hey, easy," he soothed. "It's just me."

She looked at him with wild eyes, her breathing a step faster than normal. After a moment it sunk in, and she sighed. "Sorry."

He chuckled. "Don't apologize. I'm just glad you didn't have your gun."

Katie smiled weakly, shutting the book in her hands. "How was work?"

Tyler looked up at her again. "Fine. Four knee reconstructions."

"You can do that many in one day?"

He shrugged. "Sure. Impressed?"

"_So_ impressed."

Tyler smiled. "Listen, a bunch of us are going out tonight…"

She nodded. "Sounds fun. I won't wait up."

"Actually…I was hoping you'd come."

"Oh."

He couldn't read the look on her face. Usually he could, because twenty years was a long time and he'd always had a vested interest in figuring out what she was thinking, but this particular visit she'd been harder to read than normal.

Tyler cleared his throat. "I mean if you don't want to, that's fine. I just thought it might do you good to get out of the house. You've been here for over a week, and we haven't gone out yet. We always go out at night. You haven't been out in the real world for a while."

Katie arched an eyebrow. "You live on the beach, Ty. Where else would I want to go?"

"There's millions of places to go." She shrugged carelessly and started playing with the corner of her book. Tyler nudged her gently. "Come on. Come out with me. We can leave the second you get tired or bored or just don't want to be out."

Katie looked up at him from under her dark eyelashes. "Please?" he added.

The second she sighed he knew he had her.

X-X-X-X-X

_Club Fuego_ was loud, glamorous, and filled from wall to wall with pretty, tan people.

Tyler's friends met them there. They were all doctors. Greg was an orthopedic surgeon like Ty, and was thrilled to meet Kate since he'd grown up in the Bronx. Chris was a Cali boy through and through, an anesthesiologist who reminded Kate a little of Ryan. And Lindsay, the pretty blonde who was also an orthopedic surgeon, was the sweetest, most naïve city girl Kate had ever met.

They were incredibly nice people, nice to the point that it made Kate uncomfortable. They were very interested in her, and the last thing she wanted to do was talk about herself. It was her discomfort that made her down her first cocktail in record time.

Lindsay looked at Kate from across the table as Tyler set Kate's third drink in front of her. "So what's the coolest murder you've ever solved?"

Kate had to fight not to lose her smile, but Tyler answered for her. "Ever heard of Hayley Blue?"

"Of course," Lindsay said. "Blue Pill."

"Katie solved her murder." Kate couldn't miss the tinge of pride in his voice.

"That was _you_?" Lindsay asked. "Wow."

Greg leaned across the table toward Kate and tipped his beer at her. "So, Detective, when you're wearing a dress like that…where do you keep your gun?"

Kate looked down at the slinky little black number she'd found in the bottom of her suitcase. She hadn't packed it on purpose; when she'd packed at Rick's she'd thrown everything she had at his loft into her suitcase. The dress and the three inch stilettos on her feet had been part of that mess, but unfortunately so had one of Rick's socks.

Damn that sock.

Kate gave Greg a haughty smile and sipped her drink in response. Chris chortled. Lindsay snickered and Greg raised his eyebrows, and Tyler laughed loudly and appreciatively. There was a pause as the song playing over the speakers came to an end, and then the next song came on. Tyler nudged her.

"Wanna dance?"

"I don't dance."

"Bullshit. You love to dance."

Kate sent a look in Tyler's direction, but he wasn't going to let her off the hook. He held out his hand, sending her one of those damn _I'm cute and I know it_ smiles.

"Can't leave a brother hanging," Greg muttered before taking a swig of beer.

She could, of course. She'd left plenty of men hanging. But Ty… god damn, the way he was _smiling_ at her. It was like she was a teenager again and it was their last night in Panama City; he smiled at her, she went weak in the knees, and suddenly they were making out in the surf…

He was good for her. So good. She hadn't wanted to come out. He'd coaxed her out, though, and it had turned out well. She was laughing, having fun, rejoining the world. She wasn't Detective Beckett out here; wasn't a cop or a muse or the girlfriend of a famous novelist…

Ouch.

She had to get over Rick. He was eating her alive.

The alcohol was starting to make her brain go a bit fuzzy. Kate set her drink down and slid her hand into Ty's. "All right, Harrison. One dance. Then you're buying me a shot."

"Whatever you want, Mav."

Something in Tyler's eyes flashed suddenly, and Kate took a deep, shuddering breath around her smirk. She knew that look.

Holy hell, she was in trouble.

X-X-X-X-X

When Kate and Tyler stumbled into Tyler's house around two-thirty in the morning, they were both laughing and drunk.

"So is it safe to say they're 'on' again?" Kate said, glancing at Tyler as he pulled the door shut. She was talking about Lindsay and Chris, who'd ended the night making out on the dance floor and then tried to get into a cab together inconspicuously. Greg, of course, caught them, and a wild amount of laughter and noise ensued.

Kate started giggling again. Giggling? Oh, damn. She was definitely drunk.

"For tonight anyway," Tyler laughed.

Kate reached down to pull one of her high heels off and started to tip to the left; she lowered her foot to catch herself, but not before she stumbled a bit and Tyler put his hands out to catch her.

"All those drinks catching up with you, Katie?"

"Give me an hour," she chuckled, slipping her shoe off with one hand and clutching Ty with the other for balance. "Then I'll drink you to shame like I did in Panama City."

"Oh, that's how you want to play, hmmm?" Tyler shot back, stepping closer to Kate as she switched to take her other high heel off, still holding his arm for balance.

"Afraid you can't keep up?" she teased, arching an eyebrow. "You know I like my vodka."

"Oh, I'm not worried. You hold your vodka like you hold everything else you drink."

"Hey, Jack Daniels and I are very good friends," Kate said as she straightened, jabbing her index finger in Tyler's face. She couldn't stop smiling. Why couldn't she stop smiling? Maybe it had something to do with the way her body was pleasantly warm, a little fuzzy, and sort of felt like it was floating.

Tyler captured her finger in one of his large hands and tugged on it. "Panama City says otherwise, Beckett."

"Same to you, Harrison."

They stared at each other, grinning like idiots, and then crumpled into each other, laughing. Tyler slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close enough to plant a kiss on her temple. "I forgot how much fun we have."

"We do have fun," Kate agreed. She leaned into him a bit, but only because she was slightly intoxicated and therefore a little unbalanced. It had nothing to do with the loneliness she'd been ignoring all night, the fierce longing to be touched and held and loved, the ache between her legs that wouldn't go away after her unbelievably vivid dreams of Rick Castle and…

Jesus Christ. This was why she'd started drinking tonight in the first place.

"I can't get over the fact that your backyard is the beach," Kate blurted out, searching for something, anything to talk about besides the loneliness that was enveloping her. She pulled out of Tyler's embrace and started for the French doors that led to his deck, wanting to hear the ocean and feel the warmth of California in winter. It was so different than New York.

She pushed the French doors open and stepped out onto the deck, walking until she was leaning her elbows and forearms on the wooden banister that surrounded the deck. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of the ocean and everything it was starting to represent. A new life, a new chance. An escape from everything that had been haunting her for so long.

Her eyes flew open when Tyler's arms slid around her from behind. She went rigid instantly. Tyler was affectionate. When she was with him, she was too; his status as a symbol of her life before everything started to go wrong made her more like Kate before her mom's murder and not Kate after. But this…this wasn't how they normally touched.

Kate felt Tyler plant a kiss on her shoulder, then another on the curve of her neck and shoulder, then one just below her ear. "You ever think about that night in Panama City?" he whispered in her ear.

An ocean breeze whipped down the beach, ruffling Kate's hair as she stood in the circle of Tyler's arms on his deck. "Do you?" she asked him softly.

"All the time."

Kate took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Tyler waited, then loosened his hold on her enough to grasp her hips and turn her around to face him. Kate looked up at him, her hands holding the banister behind her back. Tyler pushed her hair out of her eyes after another sea breeze swept by.

"I like having you here."

"I like being here."

His eyebrows knit together and he shook his head. "So don't go back."

Kate stared at him. "Ty. You're drunk. We're both drunk."

He took a step closer, effectively silencing her as his left arm wound around her waist and his right hand cupped her face. "Don't go back, Katie."

Oh, God, it was tempting. She couldn't be Detective Beckett anymore. So why not be Maverick? Why not answer the longing to be held, to be loved, to feel someone's body against hers?

He kissed her, as if he'd read her mind's question. It was their first kiss since Panama City. The alcohol coursing in her veins made it easier to accept, made her more willing to ignore the stabbing she felt somewhere high and focus on the heat she felt somewhere down low.

Tyler broke their kiss, lowered his mouth to her neck. "You're tense," he murmured against her skin. She closed her eyes, focused in on his lips trailing down her neck to the plunging neckline of her dress. "Are you nervous?"

"We've never…" she didn't know how to finish it, so she didn't.

"Almost," he whispered back. His hand was stealing its way down from her face, down the length of her arm and then up her body. "You said you wanted me that night."

"I did."

"And now?"

It was the alcohol that propelled her forward. Or maybe it was the bitter taste of loneliness in the back of her throat. She kissed Tyler and suddenly she tasted him instead of the loneliness, and it was exactly what she wanted. Something new but familiar, something that wasn't difficult, someone who could maybe rescue the life she'd fucked up the same way he'd rescued her sand castle.

His hand was suddenly on her breast. Kate's back arched as he pulled her closer, his hand still in place, teasing her. Kate reacted by kissing him still but pushing him backward, back toward the house, because even though it was two-thirty in the morning and no one was around she wasn't willing to put on a show for the neighbors.

Ty reached behind himself to fumble with and then open one of the French doors, and Kate stumbled through the entrance after him only to be pinned against the glass of the other door as soon as she crossed the threshold. Her hands slid up to grip his shoulders, smoothed themselves around his neck, and she tugged him closer and slipped her tongue in his mouth. He tasted like alcohol. Or maybe she did. They both did.

She could feel him, pushed right against her front, and when he pressed her back into the glass a slight moan escaped her lips and her head fell back. His mouth found her neck again. God, it felt so good to actually experience the heat, the rush, the sensation of reality instead of the haze of a dream. She lifted her right leg and wrapped it around him, shifting him to exactly where he needed to be between her legs, and the word fell from her lips unbidden and totally, completely sincere.

"Rick…"

She froze. Tyler froze too. Kate opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling as she exhaled. Jesus. She'd just said Rick's name. She looked at Tyler.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and it sounded even worse out loud than it had in her head.

Ty didn't say anything. He stepped away and stared at her for a moment, the hurt clear in his eyes, and then turned around and walked away from her.

"Ty…"

The slam of the bedroom door was her answer. Kate stared after him blindly, biting her lip. How had she managed to screw this up too?

She stood in silence for a moment, swallowing around the lump in her throat, and then did the only thing she could think of. She went to the kitchen, fished out a bottle of vodka, and poured herself a glass. She took a deep swig, and then poured some more.


	25. Fact Fiction

_**One chapter left after this one. Thanks, as always, to my betas. Reviews are welcome, appreciated, and dearly loved. Chapter title is a song of the same name by Mads Langer.**_

"Nothing," Alexis said to her grandmother quietly. She didn't take her eyes off of the closed door of her father's office. "No laser tag, no ice cream, no zombie movies. Nothing."

Martha nodded. "I know, kiddo."

The older woman watched her granddaughter stare at the office door that had been shut all day, every day for over a week. Alexis sighed. "I got on his laptop the other day, Grams. When he was sleeping."

"Oh? And?"

"And the next Nikki Heat hasn't been opened since Kate left."

"Well, yes, we suspected that. The same thing happened that summer she wasn't speaking to him, remember?"

"I know, but…" Alexis trailed off and bit her lip. She finally looked at her grandmother. "What if she doesn't come back?"

For the first time in she didn't know how long, Martha didn't know what to say. Richard had been completely inconsolable ever since Kate had bolted to wherever it was she'd gone. He locked himself in his office, but didn't write. Martha had her suspicions about online poker, but that was before she'd found _Heat Wave_ clutched in his hand when he'd fallen asleep at his desk on Tuesday.

"He'll snap out of it," Martha said finally, patting Alexis's hand. "He always does."

Alexis looked at the door again. "I don't know, Gram. Dad's never acted like this over a girlfriend."

"Well, Kate was a special woman."

"But she's not gone forever. She's coming back. Right?"

Alexis turned her wide, innocent eyes to her grandmother. The teenager was asking for herself as much as she was asking for her father, and Martha swallowed. She knew Richard had a firm honesty policy for his daughter, but she couldn't bring herself to say that as strong as Kate Beckett was, she wasn't infallible.

"I hope so, kiddo. I hope so."

X-X-X-X-X

Tyler spent an hour lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to get the sound of Katie moaning another man's name out of his head.

God, he wanted her. Katie Beckett was everything he'd ever wanted, he just hadn't known it. After Panama City, he'd realized that they could be so much more than what they had been. If it hadn't been for the distance, it would've worked between them. He knew that. But when Johanna died, the possibility disappeared. The last thing Katie needed back then was to lose her best friend because he couldn't be 'just friends', and so he'd forced himself back into that zone. That's where they'd been ever since.

But tonight…tonight Panama City had come rushing back. Yes, he was drunk. So was she. But kissing her had jolted him to the core, even through the alcohol. It was like waking up from a dream, and now that he was awake he couldn't fall asleep again. There was something about her, something goddamn extraordinary, and God help him, he couldn't stay away. He wanted her.

Who the hell was Rick?

Ty knew there was more to her visit than she'd told him. Something had happened at work, something bad. She had the scars to prove it. But there was something else too. Someone else. That's why she'd come out here; she was running away from someone.

Tyler ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He had to talk to her.

When he opened his bedroom door to find her, an odd sound floated into his ear. Coughing? No, it was…

Katie was throwing up.

Tyler strode toward the open French doors, then out onto the back deck. Katie was leaning over the railing of the deck, throwing up into the sand below. Tyler noticed the bottle of vodka and the empty cup sitting next to the deck chair he'd found her in earlier that afternoon, the bottle considerably less full than it had been the last time he'd seen it. Katie's shoulders heaved as she threw up, her hands fumbling to keep her hair out of her way, and Tyler could practically feel his heart breaking.

He closed the distance between them and stopped next to her. He reached out and smoothed her hair away from her face, holding it for her. Her hands dropped away from where they'd been holding her hair, and then her left hand groped outward and clutched at his shirt.

He held her hair until she finished; whispered the words he knew would comfort her in her ear, the same words that he'd whispered periodically over twenty years when she'd been upset or sad or sick.

_I'm so goddamn tired_, she'd told him once, two years after she'd joined the force. She'd been killing herself, working all day and then searching for her mom's killer when she was off duty, and one night she'd called him at three in the morning her time sounding like she'd just been hit by a train._ I'm so goddamn tired, but I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes it's there, Ty. Every time._

Something else was there this time, flitting across her eyelids when she closed them, and Tyler wanted desperately to fix it. She obviously couldn't handle it on her own. Katie Beckett didn't get drunk like this, not to the point of throwing up, and she certainly didn't do it alone. But here she was. He knew how hard it was going to be to get her to open up, but he couldn't stand to watch her do this.

She finished at last, her breathing a step faster than normal. She wiped the edges of her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up at him as he lowered his hand from her hair. The hollowness of her eyes was staggering. Tyler offered his hand to her, remembering that he couldn't function after he threw up until he brushed his teeth. Maybe she was the same way.

She took his hand wordlessly, and he led her into the house and back to the bathroom. She wobbled slightly as she walked, and Ty held her hand tightly. He put the toothpaste on her toothbrush, trying not to think about how wrong it was that she let him do it for her. He leaned in the doorway and watched her brush, and when she was done and turned toward him he didn't even give her a chance to do or say anything. He hugged her, and she lifted her arms to hug him back.

"I'm sorry," she said into his chest, her voice muffled.

Tyler didn't say anything right away. He waited until the tension slid out of her body and her shoulders relaxed, planting a kiss on her hairline while he waited. At last, he leaned away and looked down at her.

"Who's Rick?"

Something flashed across her eyes, and she looked at the floor. "He's no one."

"Didn't sound like no one."

She didn't say anything. He reached for her hand, led her out to the couch in the living room, and sat her down. He sat down next to her and waited until she looked at him.

"I know you," he started. "And I know you didn't come out here for a casual visit after a bad day at work." She looked down at her hands, but was still silent. "I didn't push you because I figured you'd tell me when you were ready. But Katie…look at me, Katie."

She didn't right away, but he waited. He was used to waiting for her. Her eyes lifted and he reached for her hand. "You're scaring me. What happened?"

She studied him for a moment, her face impassive, and then pulled her hand from his. She turned away from him, resting her elbows on her knees, and put her head in her hands. Time dragged on, the silence roaring in Tyler' s ears, and then finally she spoke. She still wasn't looking at him.

"Remember when I told you that Richard Castle was shadowing me?"

X-X-X-X-X

He didn't let her go. Not out of his sight, or out of his reach, and Kate wasn't entirely sure if she loved it or if it drove her crazy.

She'd told him everything. _Everything_. How she'd slept with Rick after a game of truth or dare. How her psychiatrist had become her worst nightmare and tried to destroy her, right up until the moment when Rick shot him after he stabbed her. She told him about her dad and how he would never wake up again; about how she'd fallen for Alexis Castle as much as she'd fallen for Rick; about how she couldn't be Detective Beckett anymore because she'd failed and she didn't think she could come back from that and she wasn't sure she wanted to because she was just so goddamn _tired_.

She knew she was drunk, that her words were slurring a bit and that she was probably telling the story with way more detail than she normally would've, but she couldn't stop herself. He listened, the same way Tyler Harrison had always listened to Kate Beckett. When she started crying, the first time she'd cried since she'd been released from the hospital, he swept her up in his arms and held her. Eventually she ended up falling asleep. There were no nightmares this time.

She woke up to find that he wasn't there. After checking her watch to see that it was two in the afternoon, she sat up and saw him standing by the French doors with his back to her, looking out at the ocean. She stared at him for a while, her eyes trailing over his broad shoulders and the impressive V that his back formed, and then she got up and walked across the room and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"Stay with me," he said after a while.

Kate didn't answer, didn't move from her position with her cheek pressed against his back.

He turned around to look at her, but she avoided his eyes. He tipped her chin up so that she had to look at him, then trailed his fingers along her cheek. "Resign. Move out here with me. Start something new."

"And do what? Sleep on the beach all day while you work?"

"Join the LAPD or the Sheriff's Department. Go back to school. Whatever you want. As long as you're here."

"Ty…how long have you been thinking about this?"

He shrugged. "Long enough. Stay with me, Katie."

X-X-X-X-X

Rick was ignoring Gina's phone calls. She called twice a day every day, and he ignored every one. She wanted the next Nikki Heat, and he couldn't give it to her. He didn't have it. Writing Nikki Heat without Kate Beckett in his life was like trying to run a car on the wrong type of gasoline. Nothing in Rick's life was running properly anymore.

He played a lot of online poker. Truth of the matter was that most of the sites were populated by adolescent boys with nothing better to do, and Rick didn't mind bringing a taste of reality into their perfect little worlds by beating them soundly over and over again. When things got really bad he switched to chess, because it required more brain power. He had operatic arias on repeat on his iPod. He wore button down shirts and boxers every day, but only the ones that Kate had worn before. Some of them still smelled a little like her.

And that was it. That's all he did. He wore clothes that reminded him of her, listened to songs in languages he didn't understand, and played games that only kept his mind off of her for an average of ten seconds. At night, after dinner, he went to Italiano Joe's and sat at the bar while Joe brought him tequila. Then he went back home and slept until noon and then started it all over again.

He was still seeing a therapist, still dealing with the fact that he'd killed a man. He wasn't sorry that Mark DeLucas was dead. He wasn't even sure he was sorry that he'd been the one to do it. When he'd held a sobbing Kate Beckett in his arms in the middle of Manhattan General, he knew he'd do it if he had to. But that didn't make it any easier to deal with. His therapist said that for a while nothing would seem to make it better. Rick was pretty sure that if Kate were there when he reached for her in the middle of the night, it would've been better.

DeLucas was dead. But he wasn't gone. He was in the back of Rick's mind every second of every day. _She's never going to let you in._ _Kate Beckett always holds back. _The voice was relentless, awful, because it was true. She hadn't let him in. She'd held back. When she walked out of his life she hadn't just kept him from being there for her, she'd kept herself from being there for him. Maybe it was selfish, but he needed her. He needed her to be there when he woke up in the middle of the night thinking that her blood was all over his hands again.

Was it his fault she was gone? Maybe if he'd gotten to the gun faster and stopped DeLucas before he stabbed her. Maybe if he'd pushed her harder to talk to him, or maybe not pushed as much. Maybe if he hadn't gone downstairs to get that package then DeLucas never would've gotten him and Kate never would've had to find him and there wouldn't have been a showdown in the mansion that he was going to sell the second he cared enough to call his real estate agent. Maybe…

Maybe it would go away eventually. The way he felt about her. He'd been through breakups before. Why was this any different? Mope for a few days, and then move on. Play laser tag with Alexis, eat some ice cream, watch mindless movies, date some models.

Except it was different this time. And not just because he was on the side of the breakup that he wasn't accustomed to. It was different because it was _her_, it was Kate fucking Beckett, and somehow he must've fallen for her before they'd actually slept together and not after. Because he dreamed about the way she talked to herself at the murder board as much as he dreamed about shower sex, he remembered her laugh as much as he remembered the way her back arched when he pushed into her, and he couldn't stop thinking about the words that would've tumbled out of her mouth in the hospital if he hadn't stopped her.

She loved him. She had to love him. _I lied_. What the hell did that even mean? You couldn't lie about something like that. You couldn't lie about the way she'd reached for him the night her dad ended up in a coma. For God's sake she'd thought she was dying on the floor in his library, and what had she said? Those might've been her last words, and what did she choose? _All in_.

He'd dialed her number a million times. He'd composed texts that he'd never sent. He'd written emails and letters. But every time the moment of truth came, he didn't follow through. He wanted to fight for her, but he didn't know how. Kate broke the mold. Rules for other women didn't apply to her, and he didn't know what she wanted or what she needed. And at the end of the day, the selfish prick that appeared on page six was not what he wanted to give Kate. Boxers and Texas Hold 'Em and Verdi and Puccini could get him through if that's what she needed. He'd do that for her. But what if she needed to be chased? What if she was waiting for him to come after her? He hadn't gone after Kyra. He couldn't and wouldn't make that mistake again.

Tomorrow afternoon he would go to the precinct and talk to the boys and Montgomery. Maybe Lanie. See if they'd heard from her, or if they could find out where she was so he could buy a ticket and fly there and tell her that he wasn't going to let her break a pinky promise. Because you don't break pinky promises. It's the rule.

X-X-X-X-X

When Roy looked up from his computer to see Rick Castle in the doorway of his office, the Captain felt a wave of déjà vu.

"Castle," he said, leaning back in his chair. "What are you doing here?"

Castle pulled the office door closed behind him, and Roy stared in wonder at the man in front of him who looked nothing like the writer he'd come to know. He hadn't seen Castle in over a week, since Beckett's hearing, but the change was appalling. He looked pale, exhausted, almost…empty.

"Have you heard from Kate?"

Roy didn't answer right away, because the hollowness in the writer's voice was so odd. "What do you mean have I heard from her? Did she go somewhere?"

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

A wave of panic washed over Roy. "What do you mean you don't know? When did she go?"

"Ten days ago."

Roy stared at the writer, stunned. "_Ten days_? And you didn't go with her?"

Castle looked like he was about to cry, and Roy couldn't keep the horror creeping up on him at bay. "She…we…" the writer cleared his throat. "We're not together anymore."

"Jesus," Roy muttered before he could stop himself.

"I was hoping if I gave her some time she'd come home," Castle continued, raking a hand through his hair. "But she hasn't called, she hasn't texted, she hasn't been to her apartment…"

Roy was frozen. Castle must've recognized that something was wrong, because he stepped forward, his eyes suddenly wild. "What?"

Roy looked up at the writer. "She came to see me. If I'd known she was going to leave…"

"What did she say?"

"She tried to give me her letter of resignation."

"She _what_?"

"I've tried to call her, so have Ryan and Esposito, she won't pick up…"

The writer and the Captain stared at each other for a long moment, the weight of what they'd both just realized sinking in. Kate had tried to resign, and then she'd left. The only reason she'd walk away from her job and away from Castle was if…

She wasn't going to come back.

Where the hell had she gone?

Roy was already out of his chair and halfway to the door of his office. Castle was right behind him. "Esposito!" he roared when he was in the bullpen. "Find Beckett."

The detective looked up from his desk, confused. "What?"

"Track her phone. Now."

It took a few minutes, but they got her. "California," Ryan murmured. "Why would she be in California?"

They all looked at Castle, and the writer shrugged. "I don't know. I-"

"Hey guys," Lanie greeted as she approached the huddle around Esposito's desk. She shared a brief look with Esposito but was interrupted by Castle, who lunged toward her and grabbed a hold of her arm.

"Lanie! Why would Kate be in California?"

"What?"

"California," Castle said impatiently. "Why would Kate go to California?"

"I don't know. Maybe…" the medical examiner trailed off, and a look of recognition flashed across her face.

"What?" Castle demanded.

"Tyler," Lanie answered, looking back at the writer.

"Who's Tyler?"

"They've been friends since they were kids. They went to high school together. He lives in Malibu."

"So she's visiting an old friend," Esposito said. "That doesn't mean she's not coming back. Maybe she wanted a vacation."

Castle shook his head and looked around at all of them. "Have any of you heard from her? Has she called? Texted?"

Roy watched as everyone shook their heads. Kate certainly hadn't returned any of his phone calls.

"If she was taking a vacation she would've called," Castle pointed out. "She would've at least called her best friend." He nodded at Lanie.

"Kate won't talk until she's ready," Lanie argued. "That's the way she is. She needs space."

"She tried to resign," Castle shot back. "That's not needing space. That's goodbye."

"She did _what_?" Lanie demanded, echoed by Ryan and Esposito.

Castle looked at each of them before he spoke. "She's not planning on coming back."

The collective hush was painful as everyone stared at Castle. Esposito spoke first.

"So what do we do?"

"We go get her. _I'll_ go get her. I've already waited too long."

"You need an address," Esposito told the writer. "And to get an address, we need a last name."

Castle looked at Lanie. "Do you know his last name? Something we can use to look up his information?"

Lanie shook her head. "No, I've-"

"Yearbooks!" Ryan interrupted. "You said they went to high school together. I bet she's got yearbooks in her apartment."

X-X-X-X-X

Esposito had barely gotten the door open before Rick shoved past him and into Kate's apartment. He flew toward the bookshelf in her living room and scanned the shelves quickly before he found what he was looking for. He pulled all four of them off of the shelves, sat in the nearby arm chair, and started flipping through the first.

"There's got to be a dozen Tylers in that book, bro," Esposito said. "How are you going to know which one?"

Rick ignored him because he saw something poking out of the top of the book. He flipped to the page and then froze.

They were pictures. Four of them. The first was of some blond, strong jawed guy grinning at the camera. Rick recognized that the girl he was giving a piggy back to, the girl with the long hair who was grinning from ear to ear, was Kate. Rick stared at her, enthralled. Kate in high school. He'd never seen any pictures. They'd never talked about high school. His eyes roved down to the guy, and he wondered if that was Tyler.

The next picture was the same guy and Kate. Kate was in her cap and gown and leaning into the guy. Rick felt a twinge. He flipped to the next picture. Kate and the same guy, still grinning, only this time in swimsuits. Kate looked fantastic, but Rick was a little more concerned with the muscles rippling underneath the blond guy's skin and the way Kate was draped over him. Who the hell was this guy, and why had Kate never talked about him? Rick flipped to the last picture. The blond guy was in football pads and a uniform, and he had Kate folded under his arm protectively.

Rick stared at all four pictures, feeling the same way he had when DeLucas had informed him that Kate went to the Macy's windows every Christmas Eve. Did he even know her at all? And this guy, whoever the hell he was…did she have feelings for him? Is that why she'd broken up with him and flown to the other side of the country? Lanie said he was just a childhood friend, that they went to high school together, but these pictures…that didn't look like a friend.

Rick had no sooner looked away from the pictures than his eyes fell on the yearbook page they'd been marking. There was a half-page picture on the right side page. Kate was in what appeared to be a nurse's costume paired with fishnet tights, and she was standing next to the same guy from the other pictures. The guy was dressed as Superman, and was striking a pose with his hands on his hips. Kate was on her tiptoes, leaning forward to mimic kissing the superhero on the cheek. Rick glanced down at the caption. _Senior Class President Tyler Harrison poses with Sophomore Katie Beckett at the Halloween Dance. _

"Castle?"

Rick didn't look up from the picture. "Harrison," he breathed. "His last name is Harrison."

A moment later he heard Esposito murmuring into the phone, but he didn't care. He couldn't stop staring at the picture in the yearbook. He felt sick to his stomach. What if Tyler Harrison wasn't just a friend? What if…

What if Tyler Harrison was Kate Beckett's Kyra Blaine?

X-X-X-X-X

Tyler had the next day off, so they slept in. While he made breakfast Kate sat on the couch with her eyes closed. She hadn't answered his request for her to stay. They hadn't talked about it. She didn't know what she wanted. Sometimes when she looked at him she saw the twenty-one year old version of him, smiling at her as he waved from the other side of airport security on his way to visit med schools on the west coast. Before her mom had died. Before everything she'd planned got ruined.

A lot of times she saw Rick. Tyler's green eyes morphed into blue, his laugh got lighter and louder, and she realized that joking was different than banter and she and Tyler didn't have banter. They just had memories and dreams that they'd never really gotten over.

Kate heard a noise and opened her eyes to see Tyler standing next to the couch with two plates in his hands. He was watching her. She straightened. "What?"

He shrugged. "I love you."

The breath rushed out of her. She pressed her lips together and didn't answer. After a moment of staring at him Kate put her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands because she couldn't look at him without seeing the look on Rick's face after he'd said the same thing to her.

She heard Tyler put the plates on the coffee table. He crouched in front of her, moved her hands away from her face, and Kate had nowhere to look but straight at him. His eyes bored into hers, the same green they had been since he'd looked down at her that day at the park after he'd beat up the kid who knocked over her sandcastle. Some part of her had always hung on to that image of him. Things changed; people moved across the country to follow their dreams, mothers died, and suddenly the two kids who had met in the sandbox were adults with broken hearts and broken dreams. Yet even with the brokenness Tyler was the same as he always had been, and Kate couldn't understand why she didn't want him.

Because he could've been her knight in shining armor. The look in his eye told her he wanted to be, told her he was trying to be, and she knew they were only waiting on her. She saw it all, their whole life together, and something inside of her burned with terrible loss because it was the life she'd always thought she would have. Kids and PTA meetings and soccer practice and date nights on Fridays and Jesus Christ it hadn't called to her like this since she'd ducked under her first yellow crime scene tape to see her first victim that also happened to be her mother. A normal life, a life with Tyler on the beach in California and a huge rock on her fourth finger and her mother's cookie recipe baking in the stove.

He tucked her hair behind her ear and then trailed his fingertips over her face, and Kate fought violently not to conjure up an image of the last time Rick had touched her like that. Tyler's other hand found her knee, flattened, slid ever so slightly up her thigh, and she lowered her eyes just long enough to look at it and then back up.

When she met his eyes again she knew it was coming. Oh, it was definitely coming. His gaze flickered down to her lips, and that's when her heart jumped and started racing. Was this actually happening? What was she doing? Twenty years…God, twenty years.

He leaned forward, slow enough not to startle her, and she closed her eyes, tilted her head just enough to the left that she met him half way. He didn't push her. Didn't even move at all except his lips, which moved against hers in the softest way possible. His hand grasped her face, and when his tongue slid along her bottom lip to beg for access she opened her mouth slowly to let him in.

Kate waited desperately to feel something, anything. But there was nothing. Nothing but the pure, carnal lust that any woman could feel for any man at anytime. There was nothing special about this, no spark, no life, no thudding sky-diving rush of letting go completely and having more than just sex, having intensity. Tyler was Tyler, and the connection was exceptionally deep. She loved him.

But he wasn't Rick.

Something inside of her strained under an unseen weight, pushed back against the truth that she wasn't kissing who she wanted to be kissing. Why the hell couldn't it be Tyler? Why not? Why couldn't she walk away from New York, away from Detective Beckett, away from Richard Castle? California was great. Tyler was great. He was a good man, she trusted him, felt safe with him; he reminded her of when things had been simpler, easier, and dear God he was crazy about her. He'd always been crazy about her. So why not?

Why not?

Rick.

"No," she said, turning her head away from him and breaking their kiss, her hands pushing against his chest.

He stopped instantly.

For a second they were both still, and Kate closed her eyes. God, what had she been thinking? She was hurting Tyler, hurting Rick, hurting herself. What the hell was she doing?

Tyler's head fell forward, rested against her shoulder, and Kate bit her lip. She looked toward the French doors, out at what she could see of the ocean. He lifted his head to look at her, and when she didn't look at him he pressed a kiss against her temple.

"Kate."

She couldn't remember him ever calling her anything but Katie. She looked at him. He was blurry. Fuck. She was crying.

"It's him again, isn't it?"

Ty's voice was low. She closed her eyes. It was him. It was always him. Rick fucking Castle. Damn that man. Damn the way he made her feel, damn the stubborn hold he had on her, damn him for stealing her one and making sure it couldn't be undone.

"Do you love him?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Liar."

She laughed. God help her, she laughed, though it came out as more of a choked sob with a little bit of a lilt.

"What are you afraid of?" Ty whispered next.

"I can't be what he wants."

"I think you already are."

She didn't say anything, and Ty moved to sit next to her on the couch. He pulled her with him so that she was curled into his side, small inside the circle of his arms.

"Did you actually tell him why you were leaving?" he asked.

She shook her head. "There was no point. He and I wouldn't have worked."

"No," Ty disputed quietly. "_We_ won't work."

Kate stared up at him in astonishment. Tyler smiled at her softly. "Kate, honey, you can't be with me if you're in love with someone else."

Before she could answer, the phone rang. Tyler sighed. "It could be the hospital. I have to get it." He got up and went into the kitchen, and when he was gone Kate put her head in her hands. She heard him answer the phone.

"Hello?" There was a pause. "Um. Yeah. Hold on." Kate didn't realize that Tyler was standing next to the couch until he cleared his throat. "Kate?"

She looked up at him. He held the phone out. "It's for you."

Kate stared at him. What the hell was he talking about? "Who is it?"

Tyler didn't answer. His face was emotionless. He held the phone closer to her. Kate gave him a look and then stood up, took the phone from him, and put it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Kate?"

His voice. Oh, God, his voice. Kate closed her eyes. "Rick."

There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Are you okay?"

Kate opened her eyes. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay, why wouldn't I be okay?"

"Nobody's heard from you, we were worried…"

Kate stared at the floor. "Where are you?"

"The precinct."

"Is that how you got this number? The boys tracked me down?"

"Lanie told us you might be with…" he trailed off. Kate felt her heart drop. He knew about Tyler. Lanie didn't know everything, but she knew enough. She knew the history. God, what was Rick thinking? How did this look to him? Was he upset? Mad? Jealous?

"Are you happy?"

His voice stabbed into her brain like a hot fire poker, and she frowned. "What?"

"Are you happy? With him."

Kate didn't know what to say, so she just didn't say anything. There was a long beat of silence, and then Rick spoke again.

"Tell me you're happy, Kate. Tell me it's what you want, and I'll let you go."

"Rick-"

"You're not supposed to break them, you know," he interrupted. "Pinky promises. That's the rule. But if he's what you want…"

She couldn't speak. She tried to, she opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"Right," Rick said after another pause. "Okay. Well, I…" His voice wavered and Kate closed her eyes again. "I still love you. Just so you know. I want you to do what you need to do. I want you to be happy, even if it's not with me. So if California is where you want to be…don't come home."

There was one last pause, and then he hung up. Kate lowered the phone from her ear and stared at it, stunned. She couldn't process what had just happened, couldn't understand what was going on.

"Kate?" Ty said. She didn't look at him. "He wants you to come home doesn't he?"

Kate stared at the phone but didn't say anything. What was she supposed to say?

"Katie, you can stay with me. Don't go back if you're not ready. That night we were drunk, what happened just now…it doesn't matter. I'm your best friend. That won't change. You can stay as long as you need to. I'm always here."

Kate nodded. "I know."


	26. What About Now?

_**Okay, just a few things: First, my sincere apologies for the delay. Life has this annoying habit of getting in the way sometimes. Second, I lied. This is the last chapter, but there will be an epilogue. My muse bashed me over the head with it, so it will be posted the second I'm done with it. Third, sincere thanks to all of you who have been reviewing. You've been so great :) Same goes to my betas. Lastly, there is adult content in this chapter. Don't read it if you're underage or if it's not your thing. **_

_**Title is a song of the same name by Daughtry. **_

Alexis was trying and failing to do her homework. She couldn't stop thinking about how lost her dad looked. She hadn't seen him smile since before Kate had left. At least before she'd gone there was an occasional smile. Rarely a laugh, but they weren't nonexistent. Now though…now he was pale, silent, and joke-less. Yesterday he'd walked in the front door and gone straight up to his room, mumbling some excuse about how he wasn't feeling well. Alexis knew he'd gone by the precinct, and she figured that the trip probably brought back too many memories of Kate. That's why Gram hadn't tried to pry him out of his room until she'd called him down for dinner about an hour ago. Ten minutes after dinner he'd gone to Italiano Joe's, just like he had every night since Kate had disappeared.

Alexis couldn't decide how she felt about everything. The more time that passed, the less likely it seemed that Kate was going to come back. Alexis was worried about her father, of course. She'd never seen him so affected by anything before, and it was starting to scare her. But on the other hand…was it okay if she was a little hurt as well? Was she allowed to be angry that Kate had left her, too?

Alexis's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "I'll get it," she told Gram, who'd looked up from the lines she was trying to memorize. Gram nodded. Alexis moved toward the door, but when she opened it and saw who was on the other side, she froze.

"Hi," Kate said softly.

Alexis stared at the detective standing in front of her. Kate's hands were shoved in the pockets of her coat, and she looked more nervous than Alexis had ever seen her.

"Hi," Alexis returned after a long pause. She wanted to jump on Kate and hug her, but she didn't. The last time they'd hugged, Kate had left.

"Who is it, darling?" Gram called from the living room.

"Um," Alexis murmured. Kate suddenly looked embarrassed. "It's Kate."

Gram was at Alexis's side in an instant. "Kate?" the older woman said.

Kate offered a polite smile. "Hello, Martha."

Martha wasn't as reluctant as Alexis, and the teenager watched as her grandmother stepped through the doorway and folded Kate into a hug. Kate hugged back but held Alexis's eyes over the older woman's shoulder.

"Where have you been?" Gram exclaimed when she let the detective go, giving her a once over. "We've missed you terribly."

"I…" Kate darted her eyes toward Alexis. "Is Rick here?"

Alexis was surprised when her grandmother turned toward her expectantly, as if Kate had directed the question at her. Kate's eyes were on her too, and Alexis cleared her throat. "No. He's out."

"Oh." Kate her bit lip and looked at the floor. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"No."

Gram looked at Alexis with raised eyebrows, but Alexis ignored her and stared at Kate. The detective nodded. "Okay." She waited for a second longer, giving Gram one last polite smile, and then turned and headed for the elevator. Gram raised her eyebrows even higher, and for a second the teenager was frozen in uncertainty.

"Kate!" she blurted out suddenly, running out into the hall. Kate turned around. "He's at Joe's. It's where he's been every night since you left."

Alexis couldn't miss the pained look that stole over Kate's face. "Thank you."

Alexis turned to go back into the loft, but Kate called her name. She turned around. Kate cleared her throat and looked at her feet for a second, and then finally looked up again.

"I'm sorry I left."

Alexis swallowed around the lump in her throat. "Are you going to leave again?"

Kate shook her head. "No."

"Good. I don't like when you're gone."

Kate smiled. Alexis wanted to hug her again. "Neither do I."

X-X-X-X-X

"You sure you not hungry, Ricky?"

Rick looked up from his untouched shot of tequila and shook his head at Joe. "No. I ate."

Joe threw a bar rag over his shoulder and leaned on the bar. "She's not coming back is she?"

"Nope." Rick lifted the shot toward Joe and then downed it. "Get me another one, Joe."

Joe shook his head as he poured another shot. "I'm sorry, Ricky."

"Yeah, well, I..." Rick trailed off and glanced to his left when the front door opened.

"Oh," Joe said softly, the bottle of tequila thudding against the bar when he set it down.

Rick tried to stop staring, but he couldn't. After a long moment, he swallowed. Kate had stopped at the end of the bar to stare back at him, her hands in her coat pockets. Rick let his eyes rove over her, trying to find the equilibrium between wanting to kiss her senseless and wanting to shout at her for leaving him. The hurt settled in above everything else, and with it came the anger. Rick turned back to Joe.

"Look, Joe. The prodigal returns."

There was a long silence as Rick stared down into his shot glass and Joe bounced his gaze back and forth between the writer and the detective. Rick heard Kate's heels clicking on the floor as she walked toward him through the empty bar. "What's he drinking, Joe?"

"Tequila."

Kate stopped next to Rick, her hands still in her pockets. "Very butch of you, Castle."

Rick looked up at her. "Yeah, well, what can I say? I'm a sentimental guy."

Rick looked back down at his shot. Her fingers were suddenly in his line of vision, closing around the shot glass. Rick followed the glass as it moved out of his reach. She tilted her head back and swallowed it, then set the empty shot glass back in front of him.

"Can we talk?"

Joe was staring at them, the bottle of tequila still in his hand. Rick looked at him. "Leave the bottle, Joe."

"Ricky-"

"Leave the bottle."

Joe set it down reluctantly, casting a look at Kate before ambling back into the kitchen. They were alone. Rick could feel Kate staring at him, but he didn't look at her.

"You want to ask me about it?"

Rick finally looked at her. "About what?"

"California. Tyler."

"We're not together, Beckett. You can do whatever you want. It doesn't matter."

She leaned against the bar and a little closer to him, and Rick smelled the scent that was distinctly her. Christ he'd missed her.

"I think it does," she murmured. Rick didn't answer her. She licked her lips. "His name is Tyler Harrison. I've known him since I was eight. I met him at the park. I was building a sandcastle until some kid kicked it over." She laughed quietly. "Tyler saw and he came over and pushed the kid out of the sandbox, and then helped me rebuild my castle. We've been best friends ever since."

"Sounds like your knight in shining armor."

Kate didn't answer right away. "It's not like that."

Rick stared at her and she stared back. "Why'd you go?" He cursed the crack in his voice. "Was it for him?"

"Yes. And no."

She must've seen his confusion because she took a deep breath and sank onto the bar stool next to him. It was the longest pause of Rick's life, but he knew that she was just trying to find the words. She wasn't a word person.

"Being a cop has always been safe," she told him. "When I've got a badge on my hip and a gun in my hand, I don't have to think. I don't have to feel. I just…am."

Rick knew exactly what she meant. It was the same way he felt when his fingers were flying over the keyboard of his laptop.

"DeLucas changed that. It wasn't safe anymore. And I needed something that was safe, something familiar. I just wanted things to be simple again. I wanted to go back to before all the bad stuff. That's what Tyler has always been to me. He's always been there."

Rick managed to keep himself from asking why she didn't feel safe with him, but only because he wanted to know who the hell Tyler Harrison was. "As a friend?"

She nodded. "Yeah. As a friend."

"And you guys were never more than that?"

"No."

"Did you want to be?"

Kate was gnawing on her lip so hard Rick was afraid she would bleed. "Yes."

He'd expected it. Anything but a yes would've been a lie. But it still hurt like hell. "What stopped you?"

"Timing. By the time we realized we liked each other as more than friends, he was headed to UCSF for med school. I was still back here, and we didn't want to do the distance thing. And then my mom died and things changed. He's a doctor and I'm a cop and we live on opposite sides of the country. Neither of us wanted to give up our lives."

"Until now."

This time she looked at him. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyes were every bit as green and exquisite as he remembered. It had only been eleven days since he'd seen her…why did he feel like it had been a year?

"What were you going to do, Kate? Just walk away? From the job you love, from Montgomery and the boys and Lanie?" _From me_. He didn't say it, but he heard it in his voice and he knew she did too.

She exhaled slowly and looked away again. "I didn't think I could do it anymore."

"Do what?"

She shrugged. "Be a cop. I messed up. Seven people died, Bradley got kidnapped, and you…" She shook her head. "I didn't do my job."

"So you were just going to quit? You think that's what your parents would want you to do?"

"Don't," she warned. "Don't do that."

"What do you want me to do? You want me to treat you like you're fragile? You want me to feel sorry for you like everybody else does? That's not what you need."

Her eyes blazed when she looked at him. "You don't know what I need."

"Neither do you."

"I do now."

"Oh? Did Tyler help you with that?"

They stared at each other, the fire crackling between them, and then Rick watched in astonishment as the anger slid out of Kate. Her shoulders dropped and she sighed as she broke eye contact. Rick waited for her next retort, but it never came. The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Did you sleep with him while you were out there?"

Kate didn't move, but she did close her eyes. "No."

"Did you want to?"

"Yes. We were drunk one night. I…I almost did."

"Why didn't you?"

The silence lasted for what seemed like forever. Kate stared down at the bar. "You're a lot of things, Rick. Forgettable isn't one of them."

The words hung in the air for a long moment, and then she finally looked at him. Her eyes were gleaming, wet with unshed tears.

"I almost lost you. Alexis almost lost you. My dad, my badge, everything else…I can deal with that. But losing you…" she swallowed. "I can't live with myself if that happens."

"Kate…" He almost reached for her, but thought better of it at the last moment. "You didn't lose me. I'm right here."

"I could've," she argued. "He had his gun pointed at you. He beat the shit out of you. Alexis sobbed on the phone to me for hours because she didn't know if she'd ever see you again. She could've lost you the way I-" The emotion welled up and Kate choked on it.

He didn't quite understand, so he repeated it how it sounded. "You didn't want to lose me so…you left?"

"As long as I'm around, as long as I'm a cop, there's always a chance that someone will come after you. Or Alexis. Just like DeLucas did. And I can't deal with that, I can't live with knowing that I caused something like that."

"So you resigned. You left."

"If I'm not around, you're safe."

Now he did reach for her, just enough to push a strand of hair away from her face. "You want to know what I think?"

She met his eyes and then nodded.

"Being safe doesn't mean much if you're not around."

He saw her smile, even though it only appeared for a fraction of a second. She looked down at her hands and bit her lip. "I almost watched you die."

"I almost watched _you_ die."

She looked up at him quickly, like somehow she'd forgotten she was the one who almost bled to death.

"Ever since you left I've been having this dream. We're in the library and the boys don't get to us in time. I'm holding you, and you're bleeding, and I can't make it stop. I'm begging you not to leave me but I can't keep you and you just…fade away. And then I wake up and you're not there and I realize that part of it, it's not just a dream."

God, the look on her face broke his heart, but it told him everything he needed to know. How confused she'd been and still was. How the guilt was eating her alive, and how she'd made her decision to let him go the same way he'd made his to let her go when he'd found out about Tyler. That's how these things worked sometimes. You took the hit for the other person's sake; you let them go even though it broke you because it was what they needed, and at the end of the day what they needed was more important than what you needed.

"I tried to let you go. I thought it was what you wanted. I thought he was what you wanted."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know I hurt you. I know I was selfish, and that I wasn't there when you needed me. I'm still scared, and I still think all of this is my fault, and I don't know if I'll ever be anything more than damaged goods. But I only want you. I want us. And I need to know if you want us too."

Rick let the words linger, let them sink through his skin and into his body, and he didn't dare wonder or contemplate anything beyond this exact moment, this exact place, with Kate Beckett sitting on a barstool next to him and telling him that she wanted him the way he wanted her. He curled his hands into fists so he wouldn't reach for her. "What if I do?"

Her face broke out into a grin, one of those stunning, beautiful grins that made her glow. She glanced down at the floor, still smiling, and then looked back up. She bit her lip, and then held her pinky finger out.

And suddenly, almost out of thin air, she was there. His Kate. The Kate he'd been missing, the Kate he hadn't seen since before he'd been kidnapped. It was the gesture that did it, everything he knew she was saying without saying anything at all.

He yanked her toward him and kissed her. She kissed him back, her arms sliding around his neck, gliding off of her stool so that she could stand in between his legs. He pressed one of his hands against the small of her back, pulling her close, slipping his tongue in her mouth and marveling at the way she tasted even better than he remembered.

He'd forgotten how small she was. Tall, definitely, but small. Slender and elegant, like something he'd dreamed once. Except Kate was real, very real, and he was kissing her like there was no tomorrow because for a while he'd convinced himself there wasn't.

When she finally pulled away, she smiled. Her fingers fiddled with the collar of his shirt. "My place is closer," she murmured. "And empty."

Rick arched an eyebrow as a little thrill raced through his bloodstream. "Missed me, did you?"

She gave him a wicked little smirk, one that sent all his blood rushing down south. "You have no idea," she whispered against his lips.

He traced his index finger along the skin above the top of her jeans, grinning when she bit her lip as he trailed a little higher and up over her midsection.

"I think I have an idea," he whispered back.

She grabbed a hold of his hand and pressed it in between her legs. Even through her jeans, he could feel the heat. "No, I don't think you do."

"God, I missed you."

She laughed in his ear, low and throaty, and flicked her tongue over the skin of his neck before she whispered, "Prove it."

X-X-X-X-X

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

They forgot to say it makes the sex better too.

Hailing a cab was a nightmare, not because there weren't any around, but because they couldn't stop kissing long enough to flag one down. When Kate finally pried herself away from Rick's mouth and whistled for the nearest cab, Rick settled his lips on her neck. It felt so good she nearly forgot that the car pulling up to the curb in front of her was there for them. It wasn't until the driver yelled impatiently that they both got in.

The cab ride was worse. Kate had never been one of those women that couldn't keep her hands to herself in the back of a cab, but she'd also never felt so goddamn _needy_. She didn't want him inside of her anymore; she _needed_ him inside of her. And she needed him ten minutes ago.

The cab screeched to a halt in front of her building, and both Kate and Rick went flying into the backs of the seats in front of them. Rick threw a wad of cash at the cabbie. They stumbled out of the cab and then found each other again immediately. They found a streetlamp too, and Rick hauled her up against it. The second she felt his hardness pressing against her she yanked him by the lapels of his jacket toward the building. She couldn't last much longer.

Kate prayed the elevator wouldn't be occupied. When the doors skimmed open and there was no one there, she shoved Rick over the threshold and against the back wall. She caught a glimpse of his grin before she covered his mouth with hers again. By the time the elevator dinged that they'd arrived on her floor, they were both panting and Kate had her legs wrapped around Rick's waist. She dropped her feet back to the floor and they staggered off of the elevator, still joined at the mouth. Kate was trying desperately to pull her keys out of her coat pocket, but she kept getting distracted.

Instead of stopping in front of her door they fell against it. Rick's hand darted up her shirt and undid the front clasp of her bra, and when his fingers instantly found her nipple, Kate let her head fall back against the door. She got lost in the fog for a second, a whimper escaping her lips.

"I want to taste you," Rick murmured in her ear.

"Oh, God," she moaned in return, and shoved her keys against his chest. "Open the goddamn door."

He fumbled to do as he was told. The door swung open and they stumbled into the apartment. Her keys hit the floor, followed by Rick's coat. They both kicked off their shoes. Kate's back hit the door, slamming it closed. Rick yanked her coat off. It joined his on the floor, followed by his shirt and then hers. Her bra was next, and when Rick flicked his tongue over the nipple he'd been teasing outside of her door, Kate moaned.

She clamped her hands down on either side of his head and held him there, letting her eyes flutter closed. Rick sucked on her breast, nipped at her gently with his teeth, and Kate was so caught up in how good it felt that she didn't even realize he was working on her belt and the clasp of her jeans until he pushed her pants down her legs.

Her eyes flew open and she looked down to see him on his knees in front of her, grinning. He tugged on her jeans and she stepped out of them, leaving her in nothing but her black underwear.

"I love when you wear black," he murmured, planting a kiss on the inside of her thigh. He hooked his thumbs underneath her underwear and held her eyes as he started to pull them down painstakingly slow.

He ran his hands from her knees up her thighs, and her legs parted automatically. Kate reached out blindly for the doorknob for something to hold onto, something to give her a sense of place in the spinning world around her as he finally slid his finger into her. He glided out and in again, faster, and her other hand fell on his shoulder. She dug her nails into him, whimpering, and then one finger changed to two and her whimper slid into a moan.

Kate rocked her hips against his fingers, and he explored her until he found the spot he was looking for. He rubbed it and Kate bit her lip. Her inner muscles started a spasm that stormed through every inch of her. Suddenly his mouth was on her too, sucking and licking. His tongue pushed up inside of her, and Kate moved her hands to his head and grasped his hair in her fingers. She was close, so goddamn close it hurt, and then it hit her so fast and so hard that her entire system short circuited.

Everything around her exploded. Her back arched against the door and she cried out, a fierce shiver wracking her body. Her knees buckled, but Rick managed to steady her. She crumpled against him and he pulled her forward, easing her down onto the floor on top of their coats. She dug her nails into his shoulders, still riding out the last waves of pleasure. Rick hovered over her and kissed her neck, her breasts, her belly, everywhere. Kate let herself float down from the climax slowly, relishing the feel of his lips and hands on her.

His mouth found hers again and Kate kissed him back lazily, tasting herself. When her hands started roaming she realized that he was still in his jeans, and he lifted his hips so that she could help him get them off. Once he was free of both jeans and boxers, Kate trailed her fingertips over the length of him. She smiled at the sigh he let into her mouth. Her fingers closed around him, but his hand flew up and covered her own. His cheek rested against hers.

"Wait," he choked out. "I won't last." Kate kissed his ear and moved her fingertips over him in a feather light trail. "You almost got me," he whispered. "When you came, you almost…" He didn't finish, just found her lips instead, and the thick heat between Kate's legs returned with a vengeance.

"More," she begged.

He nibbled on her bottom lip. "Condom."

Oh, right. Kate leaned away from him and closed her fingers around one of his pant legs. She pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans, and then the condom. She ripped the package open with her teeth. Rick's eyes widened the same way they always did whenever she did that. She grinned at him haughtily. She put the condom on, raising her eyes to his face the second she could because she wanted to see the way his eyes closed and his jaw jutted out to the side. She'd missed that. She'd missed him. When his eyes opened and he caught her watching him, he smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing. I…" her voice trailed off. She didn't know what to say.

He slid one arm underneath her, lifting her hips up to the right angle. His other hand nudged her legs open wider. Kate let her eyes drift closed, waiting for the heat of the glide. When nothing happened right away, her eyes flew open.

"Kate…" he whispered.

She knew instantly what he was thinking. She waited for the terror, waited for the moment and the mood to be ruined, but the damage never came. She put her hands on either side of his face and looked him straight in the eye.

"Say it."

He ducked his head down to the curve of her shoulder, trailed kisses up her skin until his mouth was right next to her ear.

"I love you," he whispered.

And then suddenly he was inside of her in more ways than one and Kate's entire world went white hot. She arched against the floor, gasping for breath and gasping his name. When the haze of pleasure reached its highest pinnacle and shattered all Kate could do was hold on for dear life, his words coursing through her with an echo that refused to fade.


	27. Sober

_**Epilogue has arrived. Title is a song of the same name by Kelly Clarkson. Thanks to my betas for sticking with me for the ride. Couldn't have done it without you. Special thanks to all of you who have reviewed – you've been utterly fabulous. Enjoy the weekend, and the finale on Monday. It's been a pleasure :)**_

It's the first night in a long while that Kate can't seem to fall asleep. She's been staring at the ceiling above her bed for a while. She's not restless or frustrated; she's comfortable in her bed, with Rick's arm hanging limply over her waist. The slow _inhale exhale_ of his breathing fills what should be the silence of two in the morning, except she lives in New York so there's sirens and people and city clamor. Somewhere outside a radio is playing the dull beats of a rap song. The noise is comfortable, familiar, and Rick's breathing makes her feel safe. At home. For the first time in a long time, Kate lets herself acknowledge that she is exactly where she belongs.

It's been a struggle, that acknowledgment. Not so much that she belongs, but that she deserves to belong. The struggle, really, was in forgiving herself. In stifling the urge to punish herself, and instead hanging on to the chance to be happy that she's somehow found at the end of the most horrific experience of her life.

It's been three months since she lay in the hospital gasping in pain and wishing she hadn't woken up. Three long months of slowly finding herself again.

She knows she couldn't have done that without Rick, wouldn't have found the path back to herself without Rick. _I want you to do what you need to do._ That's what he'd told her. That he wanted her to be happy, even if it wasn't with him. And it was when he'd selflessly let her go, when he'd put her healing before his feelings, that she realized he really did love her. And she loved him too. She hadn't been able to answer him because she was trying to wrap her brain and her heart around it. Without him, she wasn't happy. She needed to stop running. What she needed was plain, simple, and so suddenly obvious that it hurt.

She needed Rick Castle.

He took her back. He loved her, and he'd known all along she loved him too. The morning after she'd returned from California, she'd woken up in her bed to find him watching her. _Let me do this with you_, he'd whispered.

She hadn't said anything. What could she say to a request that was so unassuming, so heartfelt? She kissed him instead, made love to him, and when she whispered _I need you _just before he took her, they both knew what she was really talking about.

After a few days of being holed up with Rick and Alexis, Kate made an appointment with the department shrink. Her life for the next nine weeks was simpler than it had been in years: therapy three days a week, visit her dad, work out. When she wasn't doing that, she was with Rick and his daughter. Sometimes Lanie, but usually Rick. She didn't know how he'd mastered it, the skill of being there when she wanted him and leaving her alone when she wanted space, but he had. She never had to tell him; he just seemed to know.

It was the shrink who pointed out that Rick seemed to know her better than anyone, sometimes even better than she knew herself. The fact that she'd been able to get over the instinctive need to push him away again made Kate realize that she had, in fact, given him the distinction of her one and done. Even that realization hadn't made her head for the hills. She was playing for keeps.

She'd been cleared for active duty after nine weeks of therapy, with the recommendation that she take a vacation, get away from the city one last time before she immersed herself in being a cop and all it entailed. Rick was happy to oblige, because the Virgin Islands had been waiting for them since she'd almost died. For ten days Kate got a mansion with two pools, a private beach, and Rick Castle all to herself. She came back tan, smiling, and ready to be Detective Beckett again.

And here she is. The night before her first day back she's staring up at the ceiling and wondering what it will be like. Will she sink back into everything seamlessly, like she'd never been away? Will she be jumpy, gun shy? Will it feel weird?

She sighs and looks over at Rick, whose face is close to hers. He fell asleep holding her, but she'd rolled onto her back when she realized she couldn't sleep. His cheek is smooshed against the pillow, his mouth open slightly, and Kate smiles despite herself because he's just so goddamn adorable when he sleeps. His hair is sticking out at odd angles and it makes him look like the giant kid he is, except the giant kid sleeping next to her is a man, a _good_ man, and she is totally, completely gone for him. Gone the way her mother always promised her she would be over a man someday.

Kate's positive that her mother would've loved Rick, Alexis too, and she wonders what her mother would say if she was here now. If she would give her advice, or just sit with her. The familiar urge hits Kate suddenly, right between the eyes, and she slips quietly out of Rick's embrace and out of the bed, because she can't resist it. She lingers at her dresser for a moment, runs her fingers over the box and stares down at the picture, and then she lifts the lid.

Dad's watch. Mom's ring on its silver chain. Her badge is there too, and she slides the drawer of the box open to look at her gun. It's the first night her gun and badge have been there in a long time. Montgomery dropped them off this morning, saying something about how he couldn't have his detective showing up to work without her gun and badge.

She lifts her badge out of the box and stares at it for a while, trailing her gaze over the numbers. 41319. Her numbers. Her badge. She puts the badge back in the box, runs her fingers over her Sig, then closes the drawer and the lid. She can still feel the need pulsing through her veins, so she pads out of her bedroom and toward the living room.

Third shelf, big black book. It's a photo album, one of many. Kate pulls it from the shelf and then heads toward her couch, curling her feet underneath her. It's dark in the apartment but there's enough light and her eyes are adjusted well enough that she can see, so she opens the album and doesn't even try to stop the smile.

Pictures of her mother. Her father. Her. Family vacations, school functions, portraits, the works. She has every page memorized, knows what comes next before she even turns the page, but it never gets old. She does this a lot; looks at pictures of her family in the middle of the night when she can't sleep. For the longest time it was just so that she wouldn't forget her mother's face, her smile, the way her eyes dance even in a still photograph. Now she looks for her dad too, and her favorite pictures are the ones of her parents together. She knows she was lucky, because most of her friends were products of divorce, but looking at these pictures Kate knows that she was never even close to that. She can read it in their smiles.

A noise startles Kate out of her thoughts and she jumps, looks up, and sees Rick standing in the corner of the room rubbing his eyes. She smiles, because he's cute in his Flubber boxers and she knows without looking that his toes are curled against the cold of her floor. She won't let him wear socks in bed because once she caught him wearing the same socks for three days straight. The way he complains about his toes being cold drives her so crazy that sometimes she second guesses herself.

"What're you doin'?" he mumbles.

"I couldn't sleep."

He shuffles toward her, suddenly concerned, his forehead wrinkling beneath his mussed hair. "You have a nightmare?"

"No. Just…couldn't sleep."

He lowers himself onto the couch and Kate positions her body so she's folded comfortably into his side. He puts his arm around her and kisses her temple once, twice.

"Thinking about tomorrow?"

Kate nods. Rick realizes that she's got something in her lap and he looks down at it. "What's this?"

She shrugs. "Pictures."

"I've never seen these before."

"That's because you're usually sleeping when I look at them."

He's starting to wake up, and he looks up at her questioningly.

"I look at this album when I can't sleep," she explains.

"You have albums reserved for certain times?"

Kate nods, trying to decide if she's embarrassed, but Rick's kissing her temple again and murmuring that he loves her before she can even think about retreating into her shell. It's dark and quiet and he's somehow made her feel pleasantly small in his embrace, so she looks down at the pictures and lets him in further.

"I used to be afraid that I'd forget what she looked like. So when I couldn't sleep, I'd look at pictures. This album's my favorite because there are a lot of pictures of her and my dad together."

Rick points at the picture she's looking at. "I like this one. She's laughing."

Kate smiles. "Me too. She had the best laugh…my dad used to say that someday a standup comedian was going to discover her and pay her millions just to be in the audience of his shows, because her laugh was so infectious. You couldn't be around it and not want to laugh yourself."

"You have her laugh, then."

Kate won't look at him because she's terrible at taking compliments and part of her is afraid she might get emotional. She turns the page of the album and immediately smiles.

"Disney World," Rick murmurs. She can hear the smile in his voice. "I think Mickey had a crush on you."

"My mom got this award one year, this teaching award. It came with a cash prize, and they told me we could go anywhere I wanted."

"So of course you picked Disney World."

"Of course."

Kate turns the page again.

"You're smiling in all of these," Rick observes.

"I was happy."

There's a beat of silence, and then, "Are you happy now?"

She looks up at him, her heart skips a beat, and she nods without hesitation. "Yes."

He smiles. "Me too."

Kate smiles too, bites her lip, and looks down at the photo album again. She turns the page, and sees a picture of her and Tyler and her parents. She wonders for a second if she should feel awkward or uncomfortable, but she doesn't. Instead she looks up at Rick and focuses every bit of energy in her body on telling him exactly how she feels with just her eyes.

The radio is still going outside but it's an R&B song now, some tenor voice crooning about his long lost love. It fills the apartment as Kate stares at Rick, unwilling to think about anything beyond this moment, the feel of his arm around her, the way he's got a tuft of hair sticking straight forward just above his forehead. She wonders what it would be like if they just stayed here for the rest of their lives. If they didn't have to worry about food or work or anyone else and it was just the two of them forever. She'd thought it down in the Virgin Islands too, after making love to him on a blanket in the sand beneath the stars.

She leans forward and kisses him softly, and when she pulls away she rests her forehead against his.

"You should get some sleep," Rick says quietly. She knows he's right.

She gets up and is sliding the photo album onto the shelf when she feels him behind her. His hands start on her shoulders and trail down, and then he links one of his pinky fingers with hers. He turns her slowly, and when she's facing him she leans forward to rest her forehead on his shoulder. He puts one of her arms around his neck, and slides his hand along her lower back. Kate's got her eyes closed, and it's not until he starts to sway slowly that she realizes he's actually _dancing_ with her.

She smiles into his shoulder but doesn't say anything, because even though it's the sappiest thing he could choose to do, with the music pouring into her apartment and both of them in their pajamas, she loves it. Once she'd caught her parents dancing in the kitchen. There's no one to catch them, but Kate can't ignore the connection. She leans closer to him, kisses his bare shoulder, and lets him dance with her.

X-X-X-X-X

When Kate gets on the precinct elevator the next morning, her heart is racing. Rick is next to her, chattering aimlessly, but she's not listening. She knows he doesn't mind. He's only babbling because he's just as nervous as she is, and because every once in a while he says something funny and she smiles.

When the doors slide open Kate steps off, clutching her coffee, and looks around. Uniforms and detectives are standing in huddles or hurrying off to find suspects. Phones are ringing, papers are rustling, doors are opening and closing. Not a single thing has changed, and Kate can't even begin to process why she's so thrilled that it's all the same.

"Morning, Beckett," Karpowski greets offhandedly, walking by with a folder in one hand and a mug in the other.

"Morning," Kate says in return. It's the same greeting they would've exchanged if Kate hadn't been missing from the precinct for three months, if she hadn't almost resigned, if she wasn't now officially dating Rick Castle.

"Got to be kidding me," Montgomery's voice mutters, and Kate looks to her right to see him walking toward her. "You better go corral those idiots, Detective," Montgomery says on the way to his office, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. "They're on my last nerve and it's only nine. Drive me to drink…"

Kate looks over his shoulder and sees Esposito chasing Ryan through the bullpen, and she raises her eyebrows when they skid to a stop in front of her.

"Esposito ate your stash of Skittles," Ryan pants, and then dodges a grab attempt by Esposito by lunging behind Rick.

"Traitor," Esposito growls. He looks at Kate, then down at his shoes. "Ryan did it too."

"Did not," Ryan argues from behind Rick.

"It was your idea."

"You were the one whining you were hungry."

"Boys," Kate says, but they're not listening.

"I said pizza."

"You wanted me to buy!"

"You don't have the rent payment I do!"

"You don't have a girlfriend!"

"But I-"

"Boys!" Kate practically shouts, and they both stop. She looks from one to the other sternly, and she can see Rick grinning uncontrollably out of the corner of her eye. The tension laden silence hits its peak, and then Kate shakes her head.

"You could've just refilled the bowl with a bag from the vending machine and I wouldn't have even known."

She heads to her desk as Ryan and Esposito stare at each other stupidly, and then Rick falls into step next to her. He leans in toward her, still grinning.

"Welcome back, Detective."


End file.
